


Just Another Midnight Run

by startwearingpurple



Series: Rose Weasley: Bounty Hunter [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Detectives, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 59,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6521692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startwearingpurple/pseuds/startwearingpurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Malicious lingering, no violent priors. Got a wife. Should be just another midnight run. Read for yourself.” I decided he didn't need to know the bit about the Dark objects. We really needed the money. Besides, I was starting to like the idea of taking this guy down. I'd finally be like a real bounty hunter. <i>How cool am I?</i> I'd say. <i>I took down a Dark wizard.</i> Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Parmenter, Again

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum novels.

I was starting to think I'd chosen the wrong career.

Not that I chose this one. It just sort of happened to me. But now I was wishing I'd just done something normal, like raising bowtruckles. Maybe become a Healer like my brother. But, no, I was Rose Weasley and had to be different. Independent. Little did I know back then, those two traits in combination meant usually broke.

And now I was hiding behind a hastily-conjured Shield Charm while some idiot threw Bundimuns at me. They were dead, but their creepy eyes were staring at me. Another one splattered against the Shield Charm, splashing bits of green fungus in every direction and leaving only a single eye sliding down the invisible wall of the charm. Ew.

“Give it up, Parmenter!” I yelled.

“You'll never take me alive!” he shrieked. I rolled my eyes. Pyxis Parmenter was a regular of mine, I'd brought him in four times in the last year. He always put up a fight that was embarrassingly disgusting. Last time he'd enchanted eggs to follow me around while I pulled him out of his run-down old house. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get raw egg off your clothes? Just don't let it harden in your hair, that's all I can say.

The worst of it was, he never even did anything that was worth putting up this kind of a fight. If he'd just gone in last week to the Ministry like he was supposed to, he'd have done a week in Azkaban and been home. Now that Azkaban was staffed by wizards instead of dementors, that wasn't really such a horrible sentence. But Parmenter never wanted to sit in Azkaban when he thought he could avoid it.

Usually Parmenter was picked up on a D&D – drunk and disorderly. Sometimes he knocked someone out in the pub, and sometimes he had no money to get drunk or disorderly, so he knocked over a shop in Diagon Alley and took the money to buy liquor. Nothing Dark, just minor-league, stupid stuff.

He always posted his bail through Angelo's Magical Bonds. And he never showed up for his court dates. And that was where I came in.

“Come on, Parmenter! If you come along quietly, maybe we can all be home in time for supper. Don't make me hex you!”

He threw another Bundimun at me. His house must have been full of them. This wasn't getting me anywhere, and I was getting hungry. It was way past lunchtime. Typical Parmenter, he never gave in without a ridiculous fight. I hoped he didn't have any eggs up his sleeve.

I pulled down the Shield Charm and ducked another flying Bundimun, running toward the house. I threw a couple of hexes wildly at the house, knowing I probably wouldn't hit him, but it gave me cover to get a little closer. I hid behind a hedge this time, and pulled on a Shield Hat. They weren't terribly useful for long-term, but they worked pretty good for running right into a felon's house and grabbing him without getting turned into a newt. My uncle George sold them, he always gave me a really good price on supplies.

I shot off a couple more hexes, and just as I was about to run into the house and try to grab stupid old Parmenter, a noise stopped me.

I'd never heard anything quite like it before. Picture a hundred rocking chairs creaking at the same time. But ominously, like in a Muggle horror flick. I peeked around the hedge and saw the house seemed to be vibrating. The creaking noise became almost deafening, and I clapped my hands over my ears, still watching as the house seemed to fold in upon itself with a horrible noise as nails were pulled from their wood and pipes broke.

“Oh, crap.”

I stared at the rubble that used to be Parmenter's house. Clouds of dust were rising from the crumpled roof. Parmenter was climbing out from under a rotted piece of plaster, looking dazed. The damn Bundimuns must have rotted the foundations of his house, leaving it vulnerable to a spell that should have only blasted a hole in the wall.

On the plus side, he wasn't throwing them at me any more.

I had Parmenter in custody and figured I might as well wait for the authorities to arrive, and let them take him in. I'd have a body receipt either way, and this was less work for me. I was probably going to have to give a statement about how the house had collapsed, too.

I recognized the Magical Law Enforcement officer that showed up. He'd been at school with me, two years ahead. His name was Jack Upchurch, and his dad was a Muggle copper. Jack had gone into Magical Law Enforcement as the next best thing. I'd run into him more than a few times since I started skip tracing.

He grinned when he saw me. “Rose. Did you do this?”

“Not on purpose.”

The grin widened. “You got Parmenter, I see.”

“Yup. Got a body receipt on you?”

“Yeah, I'll take him into custody. You want to make a statement about how his house got demolished?”

Because he was an idiot who couldn't be bothered to clean a Bundimun infestation. “He had Bundimuns. It wasn't my fault.”

“Uh-huh.” Jack was examining the chunks of green slime all over the front yard. “I can see that. And the house just suddenly collapsed? Through no fault of your own?”

“Something like that. Can I get my body receipt?”

“Yeah, sure. Tell Scorpius I said hello.”

As I Apparated home, I wondered if word of this was going to get back to my dad. Magical Law Enforcement seemed to take a great pleasure in informing him of everything I was up to. Sometimes my cases intersected with my dad's, but not usually. I stuck with small-time stuff. Less dangerous. Dad did dangerous stuff. That wasn't my thing, although it did make more money. Larger bail, larger bounty. It just wasn't always worth it to me.

Most of my cases were pretty straightforward. I collected the person, took them in to the MLEs, got them bonded back out again, and off we all went. Some were like Parmenter, determined not to go in, even if it meant humiliating themselves, and me, in the process. Some turned out... dangerous.

No one was home when I got home. Scorpius had helpfully left me a note that said there was lasagna in the stove with a Warming Charm on it. I pulled it out and dug in, not bothering with a plate. Lucky Scorpius knew how to cook, or we'd both starve.

Parmenter had wasted half the day, but I still had time to go by the office and get my fee. I could pick up another case. Maybe pay a few of our bills, before we got evicted. We were a month behind in our rent. It had been a slow month, felon-wise, and Scorpius wasn't bringing in any money either.

After I'd finished my lasagna, I headed over to Angelo's Magical Bonds to cash in my body receipt. I had the bond enforcement contract in my bag right next to the nice empty moneybag for the fifty Galleons he would owe me for bringing in Parmenter again.

Lydia was at the desk, as usual. She was Angelo's niece. Nepotism was rampant at Angelo's; he'd hired his cousin to be one of his skip tracers, too. She was all right, just not terribly intelligent. Spanking good gossip, though, you could always get something useful, or at least amusing, out of her. She didn't particularly care for her uncle, either.

“He in?” I asked, slapping the Parmenter paperwork on her desk with the empty moneybag.

“Yeah, he's in his office. Any eggs this time?” Lydia pulled out a cashbox from under her desk and waved her wand over it. Whatever enchantments had been on it lifted and it popped open. Shame I couldn't go for the real psychos, that was where the money really was. Strictly the small fish for me, thanks. Could've used the Galleons, though. Maybe it was time to nag Scorpius about getting a job again.

“No eggs.” I pushed through the door into Angelo's office.

Angelo Agnelli was about fifty, steely-haired and stockily built. He didn't like me, but then, he didn't like anyone. I couldn't tell you why he put up with me, since I wasn't the Bail Enforcement Agent Of The Year, and I wasn't related to him, either. I had a nagging suspicion it was my family – after all, the Great Harry Potter is my uncle. A lot of people are willing to chat me up because of it. When I tell them how he wears his wife's makeup to cover the scar, they stop listening to me.

“You get Parmenter?” Angelo asked gruffly, looking up at me. He had his feet propped up on his desk and was reading an Auror novel, his shoes nice and shiny and his robes very clean. No one had thrown dead Bundimuns at him today. I should've owned a bond company. I was clearly on the wrong end of this business.

“Yeah, I got him. Lydia's counting out my fee.”

“I swear to God, I'm going to stop bailing out that worthless piece of crap. He always runs. Always. And I gotta waste money paying idiots like you to bring him in, every time.”

“Uh-huh.” I wasn't concerned by this. A day without an Angelo insult was a day without sunshine. And he would bail Parmenter out again next time, just like he always did. Parmenter had been using Angelo's Magical Bonds for twenty years and wouldn't dream of skipping out on a bond by anyone else. “Got anything new for me?”

“No. Go away.”

“Come on, my rent is due.” So was last month's rent, technically.

Angelo sighed and took off his reading glasses, setting the book down on the table with his finger still in between the pages, holding his place. He reached with his other hand into a file drawer in his desk, pulled out a file, and slapped it onto his desk.

“How do you do that with one hand?”

“Do you want this or not?”

I was skin flint. The fifty Galleons from Parmenter wouldn't make a dent. I'd probably take the folder no matter what it was. “How much?”

“Bond was five thousand Galleons.”

I perked up. I would net ten percent of that. Five hundred Galleons would catch us up on our back rent and pay most of this month's as well. But it was a lot more than I usually took in. I tried not to be suspicious, but I knew Angelo, and he didn't do anybody any favors. “How come you're giving it to me?”

“I hate you and want you to die.”

“No, really.”

Angelo sighed again. “You're a pain in the ass, Weasley. My Psychological Healer says I should be doing good deeds. It might lower my blood pressure.”

I was still suspicious. I picked up the file and flipped through it. Butrus Knapper was picked up on a charge of malicious lingering, which would have gotten him a small slap on the wrists when he went in front of the court. Wasn't worth skipping out on his court date for. No violent priors, just a couple of petty theft charges five years ago. He had a wife – with that name? Love must be blind _and_ deaf - so he shouldn't have been considered much of a flight risk. There was a picture of him attached to the folder. He was looking side to side as if he thought someone was watching him, his eyes small and round in his sharp, narrow face. Balding, and not in a sexy way. Receding hairline, like Scorpius's dad. Yup, love was blind.

“Why is his bail so high?”

“What am I, on the Wizengamot? How the hell should I know? Just go find him and bring him in so I'm not out those five thousand gold ones.” Angelo picked up his book again.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it would be easy money. We could get our landlord off our backs, and stop scrounging food from my parents' house when they weren't looking.

I grinned suddenly, feeling optimistic. “You're a prince among men, Angelo.”

“Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out,” he said.

I went home again and paged through Butrus Knapper's file. It was starting to bother me that this guy's bail was so high for such a small-time hood, so I owled Jack Upchurch to ask what he knew about Knapper's arrest, and then flopped out on the couch to do some reading.

I woke up at the sound of a beak on the window pane. Hadn't left it open for the return owl. I tossed aside the book I'd been, uh, reading, and opened the window. Jack said the case wasn't with Magical Law Enforcement, it was with the Aurors, and I ought to be careful mixing around with anybody who fell in their department. Thanks, Jack, that's ever so helpful. Like I didn't know that anybody the Aurors went after was bad news. My dad and uncle were Aurors, I knew exactly what type of wizards they went after.

I Flooed my dad's office to grill him. What's the point having an Auror for a dad if you can't wheedle police secrets out of him?

He answered in the usual way. “Rosie! What's wrong, do you need money? You want to move back home? Are you finally leaving that no-good layabout?”

“No, Dad,” I said tiredly. “I'm not leaving the no-good layabout. I just want to ask you what you know about my skip, Butrus Knapper.”

I couldn't see what Dad was doing, since I could only see his head in the green flames, but he looked down and I pictured him shuffling papers for a minute. “Oh, him. Picked up on a malicious lingering charge, and then turned out to have about a dozen different proscribed Dark objects on him.”

“Great,” I said. Angelo hadn't said anything about any Dark objects. Lying ferret. No wonder the bail was high. Oh well, I needed the money.

“Nothing big,” Dad hurried to reassure me. “Strictly minor-league stuff. But it was Dark, so he got shunted over to me.”

“And then he took a walk when he got bonded out. Any leads?”

“He's kind of low on my radar, to be honest, Rosie,” said Dad. “He's a middle-man, a dealer, not a Dark wizard. We don't have manpower right now to waste on him, what with this Venatici business. If I turn anything up, I'll let you know.”

I had a warm and fuzzy feeling. Dad actually would let me know, I knew that. If it'd been Uncle Harry, he wouldn't have told me a damn thing. If Knapper were really dangerous, Dad would be lecturing me about not going after him. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Coming to dinner Sunday? You can bring the shiftless layabout,” he added grudgingly.

“The shiftless layabout made lasagna today,” I told him.

Dad tried not to look interested, and gave up. “Oh, go on, then.”

I plopped a generous slab of lasagna on a plate, put a fork next to it, and put it in the fireplace.

“Thanks Rosie,” Dad said, grinning. “Tell Scorpius he's all right.”

Scorpius was all right as long as the food lasted, then Dad remembered all the reasons he didn't like him again. As my mother often remarked, Dad was a man of simple pleasures.

Speak of the devil. The front door was opening, the chains sliding back and out of their slots, so I knew it was Scorpius. We'd moved in together a year ago, just like real grown-ups, and our parents had been harassing us to either get married or split up ever since. Apparently living in sin wasn't on their list of Ways To Gain Parental Approval. I was twenty-six years old, what did I care for parental approval?

Okay, so I did care, but I care about Scorpius more. He didn't seem bothered by the collective disapproval of the Weasley and Malfoy families. Not enough to leave me, anyway, or get a job.

He smiled at me when he came in. “Did you get Parmenter?”

“Yep.”

“Any enchanted eggs this time?”

“No. But I did demolish his house for him.”

Scorpius gave me a look. “Are you serious?”

“Sadly, yes. It wasn't my fault. He had Bundimuns.”

“That's no reason to blow up a person's house,” Scorpius said sternly.

Clearly no one had ever thrown Bundimuns at _him_. “I meant he had them in his house, they'd eaten away the foundations. I threw one little hex and the whole thing went down like a house of cards.”

Scorpius laughed. “Only you, Rose.”

“Sell any paintings today?”

Scorpius was unloading his stuff from the enchanted knapsack my mother had given him for Christmas. It was amazing how much crap could fit in there. Easel, ridiculously oversized palette, roll of brushes, box of paints, stack of canvases. “No sales today. I was painting in Hyde Park, got a few Muggles asking about whether I sold my work, though. Passed around a few cards, so maybe I'll get a nibble soon about a sale.”

“I got a new case. Butrus Knapper.”

Scorpius paused with a painting of a couple under a tree in his hands and looked over at me. “Seriously?”

“That's his legal name.”

“Wow. His parents must have hated him.”

This from the man named Scorpius Hyperion. “It'll be five hundred Galleons if I can get him.”

“That's a lot of money,” Scorpius said neutrally as he leaned the stack of canvases against the wall.

“Why do you think I took it?”

Scorpius came over to stand next to me at the kitchen counter. “He's not dangerous, is he?”

I pushed the folder over to him, across the countertop. “Malicious lingering, no violent priors. Got a wife. Should be just another midnight run. Read for yourself.” I decided he didn't need to know the bit about the Dark objects. We really needed the money. Besides, I was starting to like the idea of taking this guy down. I'd finally be like a real bounty hunter. _How cool am I?_ I'd say. _I took down a Dark wizard._ Sort of.

Scorpius didn't look convinced, but he let it slide. “Be careful, okay Rosie?” He hooked an arm around my neck and pulled me close to kiss my forehead. I wrapped my arms around his waist and snuggled close. He smelled like sunshine and paint. Mmm.

I could start looking for Knapper tomorrow. Tonight I had plans, and they all involved Scorpius Malfoy.


	2. Mostly Independent and Totally Broke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I swear I could feel something crawling on me where I'd sat on the filthy sofa. Ew, ew, ew. If I were Butrus Knapper, I'd have skipped out just to get out of that rowhouse.

First things first. When you're looking for a failure-to-appear, the best place to go is the person who put up collateral for their bond. Usually this person can be convinced to pony up some leads in the hope of not losing their house, expensive racing broom, or prized collection of rare Chocolate Frog cards. In this case, the person who'd put up collateral was Mrs. Butrus Knapper. I wondered what her first name would be. Ermengarte? Broomhilde? Flying Buttress? Mary Jane?

The Knappers lived in East London, in a neighborhood not known for its poshness or physical safety. My wand was safely stowed in my sleeve, and my hand itched for it as I walked quickly down the street. Everyone looked like a mugger around here. Muggle muggers. Try saying that five times fast.

I banged on the door when I found the correct address, and stepped back to wait for someone to answer. After a few minutes, the door opened a fraction of an inch. I could see an eye peeking out between about ten different chains.

“What do you want?” the eye demanded testily.

“I'm Rose Weasley, I work for Angelo Agnelli-”

“You're looking for Butrus, aren't you?” The door snapped shut, and I heaved a sigh. Nobody likes me anymore since I started working for Angelo. I can't even count the number of doors I've had slammed in my face.

But this one opened right back up again, this time without the chains. Mrs. Knapper was skinny, in an unhealthy kind of way, with short brown hair and wide, bruised eyes. She didn't look like she'd slept much lately, and she smelled like stale whiskey. She had her wand in her hand.

“You may as well come in,” she said.

The house was absolutely filthy. She must not have cleaned it in years. I'm no clean freak, but I really didn't want to sit down, and the idea of Scourgifying my own ass when I left also held no appeal, though I was pretty sure it wouldn't hurt me, since I'd once seen Teddy Lupin perform that spell on his son's butt while changing a diaper. With my luck, I'd remove the seat of my pants instead of the dirt. I'd have to Apparate home and change clothes. Yuck.

I sat down gingerly on the brown sofa – had it always been brown or was it the dirt? Oh God, don't think about it – and smiled my friendliest, most trustworthy, please-rat-on-your-husband smile.

“Mrs. Knapper-”

“Call me Lomatia,” she said, picking up a glass of firewhiskey as she sat down on an equally filthy armchair, dropping her wand on the table where the whiskey had been. It was ten in the morning, but apparently that wasn't stopping her.

I did my best not to change my expression. Wow.

“Lomatia,” I said, testing the name out. Holy crap. I think Butrus was actually the better half of this couple, name-wise anyway. “Your husband missed his court date, and I need him to come in with me to the Ministry and get it rescheduled.”

“You mean you want to put the bastard back in jail,” Lomatia Knapper said.

“Well, Angelo would probably bond him back out, so he wouldn't have to stay in a holding cell until his next court date.” Probably. Though if Knapper had Dark objects on him and had skipped once, the chances that he would be offered bail again seemed slim to none. Still, best to be optimistic, right? Hope was a wonderful thing. “You don't want him to stay missing, you could lose your home.”

“We don't own this dump,” she said, waving a hand to indicate the rowhouse. “I don't own nothin' that's worth anything.”

Uh-oh. I had an uneasy feeling about this. Angelo didn't do nobody any favors, and he sure as hell didn't sign unsecured bonds, especially to people caught with Dark objects. Most people put their house down as their collateral for larger bonds, but if they didn't own their house... “Then what was your collateral for the bond?”

“Me,” she said, tossing back her drink.

And hope crapped on me again. Lomatia Knapper was custodian for her husband. It was an old law, one that the Muggles had repealed ages ago, but it was still on the books of magical law. A person could be named as collateral for a bond, and if the felon takes a walk and can't be found, the custodian took his place before the Wizengamot, and could be imprisoned – even executed – in place of the felon. My mum thought it was utterly barbaric when she heard about it, especially since wives were so often custodians for their criminal husbands, and was working on having the law repealed, but right now it was still legal.

I wasn't real happy that Angelo had put Mrs. Knapper down as custodian, though. Being legal didn't make it morally correct. Jerk. I'd deal with Angelo later, though. This ought to make her want to help me, right? Surely she didn't want to go to Azkaban in her husband's place?

She was watching me with glittering eyes. “I don't know where he is,” she said baldly. “If he comes home, he's going to find the locks have been changed. That bastard couldn't be buggered what happened to me when he skipped. I hope you catch him.”

“Do you have any idea where he might have gone? A friend's house? Does he owe anyone money? Where are his usual haunts?”

Lomatia didn't answer for a moment. “If I tell you, can you get Mr. Agnelli to let me out of this bond?”

I felt really bad for her. I wished there was a better answer. “It's a binding magical contract. Either we find Butrus, or you go to Azkaban in his place.”

Lomatia picked up her glass and her wand, and the glass refilled itself. Nice. I'd never been able to get that charm to work on alcohol before. She tossed back the second drink, and then said, “He was involved in something. Something big. Wouldn't tell me a thing, but then, he never did. Just yelled at me. He didn't have any friends. Got a half-brother living out in Borrowdale, but they hated each other. I don't think he'd go there.”

“Any friends he'd go to? How was his wandwork?” I didn't really want to go after this guy if he was a celebrated duellist or something. I might do anyway, though. Someone had to pay the rent.

She shrugged. “He had some friends that I never spoke to. I never saw him do any particularly difficult spells. He left Hogwarts after fifth year, barely scraped an O.W.L.”

I got the info on the brother, thanked poor Lomatia Knapper, and fled the scene. I swear I could feel something crawling on me where I'd sat on the filthy sofa. Ew, ew, ew. I Apparated home as soon as I found a sufficiently empty alley, and ran into the bathroom to shower.

If I were Butrus Knapper, I'd have skipped out just to get out of that rowhouse.

I started thinking about the brother in Borrowdale while toweling off. If they didn't get along, it seemed unlikely that Knapper would go to him, but people did strange things when they were on the run. At the very least, it wouldn't hurt to go talk to the guy. Borrowdale was in the Lake District, chock full of tourists. Better put on Muggle clothes.

I opened the closet door and saw Scorpius sitting on the floor, his knees curled to his chest. He didn't appear to be doing anything, just sitting there.

“Why are you in here?” I asked blankly.

“Mrs. Kochel was here.”

Mrs. Kochel was our landlady, who undoubtedly wanted the back rent we owed her. I ducked into the closet next to Scorpius. “Do you think she's coming back? Does she know _Homenum Revelio_?”

“I doubt it. She doesn't seem too keen on difficult spells.”

We sat in silence for a while, then I said, “We're going to have to borrow the money from our parents, aren't we?”

“Unless you find Knapper by tomorrow.”

“That seems unlikely. Knapper's gone. His wife has no idea where he might be.”

“Sorry, babe.”

I put my head on his shoulder. “Half from my parents, half from yours?”

Scorpius's face was drawn. I knew he hated asking his dad for money. Scorpius had this weirdly independent streak. I had it too, which is why we had always understood each other so well, and also why we were broke.

“Think we can hold out another week? Maybe we can get a painting sold, or find a failure-to-appear.”

“We can try,” I said uncertainly. It seemed unlikely that either of those events would happen.

“Okay then,” he said. “If we haven't gotten a windfall of gold by tomorrow afternoon, we'll ask our parents for the money.”

Handy, since we were going to my parents' house for dinner tomorrow. Come to think of it, I don't remember mentioning that to Scorpius. Whoops.

“My parents want us to come to dinner tomorrow.”

“Handy,” Scorpius said. “We can ask them for money with our dessert.”

I decided I had enough time left this afternoon to go to Borrowdale. Scorpius was sitting on the bed, tapping his canvas brush roll against his knee and watching me get into my Muggle clothes: t-shirt that did not have a Quidditch team logo on it, trainers, and pair of jeans with hole on the shin. Muggles liked jeans with holes in them, for some reason.

I twirled a bit, hoping Scorpius was impressed. “Do I look like a Muggle?”

He shrugged. “I guess so.”

I turned back to the mirror and fluffed out my hair. Not everyone can pull off red curls, but fortunately, I was a Weasley. “Okay, I'm off to see if I can run down Butrus Knapper. Maybe I can flush him out.”

“Are you sure this guy isn't dangerous?” Scorpius asked suspiciously.

“Would I lie to you?”

“Yes.”

He had a point there. “Mrs. Knapper says the guy can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up, how dangerous could he be?” This wasn't strictly true, but it sounded good.

Scorpius didn't look convinced. I set off for the Lake District.

Cumberland Borrowdale was very pretty at this time of year. There were crowds of Muggles wandering about the place: young Muggles with large knapsacks strapped to their backs, families of Muggles with whining children, a few people who were dressed just wrong enough that I thought they were probably wizards trying to blend in. Or Americans.

The house that Butrus Knapper's brother lived in was on the south end of Derwent Water, on the outskirts of the Muggle village. It managed to seem very isolated despite not being far from the beaten track. The house was overgrown with ivy, the plaster walls crumbling, a large marble toad sat in the center of a weedy pond in the front garden, and the thatched roof had a small tree growing in it. He might as well have had a sign up that said “Tie me to a stake and burn me, I'm magic!” I wondered why no one from the Ministry had given this man a warning to fit in more with the Muggles. Sheesh. Some people have no class.

I rapped on the door a few times, and eventually heard footsteps coming. I took a step back and tried my best smile. You catch more fairies with honey than with vinegar, as my aunt Fleur always says.

The man who opened the door was far better-looking than I'd expected, after the picture of Butrus Knapper. If this was his half-brother, the common genes they shared were not apparent. He looked at me blankly, as if he had no idea who I was.

“You're a Weasley,” he said then. Guess he did know who I was.

“Yeah, I am,” I said, putting out my wand hand. He just looked down at my hand for a moment, and I let it fall back to my side. Oooookay. Lomatia Knapper was definitely the best out of this bunch, and that wasn't saying much. “Are you Balthazar Pulford?”

“Yes.”

He had the door open only wide enough to stand in, so his body obscured any view of the interior of the run-down little house. I tried not to be obvious about wanting a look behind him, but I was really curious. This guy was weird. “I'm looking for your brother, Butrus Knapper-”

“Haven't seen him,” he interrupted.

“He hasn't contacted you since his arrest?”

“Haven't seen him,” repeated Pulford. He was eyeing me as if measuring my height. It was really creeping me out.

Well, wasn't this pleasant. I pressed on. “He's in violation of his bond agreement. I need to bring him in to reschedule his court date.”

Pulford was still watching me with that strange look on his face. “You're a bounty hunter?”

“Bond enforcement agent, yeah.” Most people had difficult processing this. Guess I don't look like a bounty hunter. Maybe I need some tattoos or something. Or a t-shirt that doesn't have a pink unicorn on it.

Pulford gave me a slow head-to-toe once-over. Gross. I decided it was time to go. “If you see Butrus, will you contact Angelo's Magical Bonds and let us know?”

He didn't say anything, so I gave him a wave and left. I could feel his eyes on me as I turned around the bend out of sight. No one was around, so I Apparated back to London, wanting to get away as quickly as possible.

I came home to the strains of 'Oh What a Beautiful Mornin' performed to the sounds of washing-up, Scorpius's baritone voice echoing in the hallway. I smiled as I came into the kitchen. Scorpius was busily scrubbing a pot with dish gloves on, his blonde hair tied up with a pink elastic into a ponytail, the dishes in the sink next to him washing themselves. I'm pretty sure that was my hair elastic.

He'd been notorious in school for his love of old Muggle musicals. Listening to his rendition of that yodeling song about the goatherd was quite the treat, let me tell you. My cousin James had been convinced Scorpius was gay because of this and decided Scorpius must be using me as a beard so his father wouldn't find out and disown him. James had – helpfully – mentioned this theory to my father. It had not helped his opinion of Scorpius, though my granddad got a real kick out of it.

Scorpius smiled at me when he saw me, and kept singing. He had quite a nice voice. I couldn't sing to save my life. I wished I could, we could do lovely duets and be famous on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Maybe earn some money. Hmm. Maybe Scorpius could pick up a few Galleons busking around London. Mental note: Suggest that to him when he's in a receptive sort of mood.

“Hey babe,” I said when he'd finished the last note and set the pot in the dish drainer.

“Come help me dry the dishes.”

I hate doing the washing-up. I didn't move in with a domestic kind of guy so I could do my own dishes. But he was awfully cute when he smiled at me like that, so I went over and pulled my wand out, muttering the charm that created warm air, and started drying the dishes next to him.

“I don't suppose you found Knapper?” he asked.

“Nope.” I didn't want to tell him about Knapper's creepy half-brother. It seemed unlikely to comfort him about the safety of this case.

“Mrs. Kochel came back.”

I sighed, setting a plate into the open cabinet next to the sink. “Did you talk to her?”

“Nope. I was out. She left us a nasty note on the door.” He nodded his head to a scrap of parchment pinned to the refrigerator with a Temporary Sticking Charm. It threatened us with eviction, disembowelment, and calling our parents if we didn't pay last month's and this month's rent by Monday. Very friendly.

“Tomorrow we'll go to my parents' house, then we can stop by your parents' house on the way home and ask for money.”

“I really don't want to do this,” Scorpius said, not looking up.

“I don't like it much either, but I think I would dislike living in a cardboard box even more.”

This made Scorpius smile ruefully, and he said, changing the subject, “Your dad's in the paper again.”

I set the last mug in the cupboard and turned to where the paper was spread out on our small table. My dad was on the front cover, looking gruff and shaking his head. You could see his grizzled hair even in the black and white photo. Mum's hair was still suspiciously brunette, but Dad had been going grey for the past five years. The article under Dad's photo was about Venatici, again. The reporter had written, that though Dad's team of Aurors were nearing an arrest, the public should continue to be vigilant, as Venatici was still at large and still very dangerous.

The Venatici case had been in the _Prophet_ almost every day lately. It had started out when he'd been arrested on a Dark object trafficking charge. When searching his house, the Aurors had found some really horrible things. My dad had been in charge of the search, and he still looked a little sick when it was brought up. Venatici had been killing Muggles and making Dark objects out of their body parts. He'd sold a Hand of Glory to an undercover Auror, and it had turned out to have come from a Muggle mother of three, not a smuggler as it's supposed to. Disgusting. My cousin Fred said he'd heard that Venatici was eating some of the Muggles he'd killed, but Dad said that wasn't true. Venatici had escaped custody and now no one could find him.

Sometimes at home we'd discussed Dad's cases, but my mum had put a moratorium on discussing the Venatici case. She looked like she was going to throw up whenever she saw mention of it in the _Daily Prophet_ , and it usually made her a little more touchy-feely with my dad. I think she was worried about him. I couldn't imagine any wizard getting the best of my dad, though, even one who chopped up Muggles and enchanted their hands and heads. Dad, though totally oblivious when it came to women, was pretty sharp where criminals were concerned.

I looked over at Scorpius. He was reading the article over my shoulder with a small frown, and when he caught me looking, he kissed my temple.

“I'm glad you don't go after the kind of wizards your dad hunts, Rosie,” he said.

I was too. I looked down at the hazy photo that was the only image of Venatici that had been published. He looked kindly enough to me. Just goes to show, I guess, serial killers look just like everyone else.

 

**A/N: “Oh What a Beautiful Mornin'” is from Oklahoma! and was written by the incomparable Rodgers and Hammerstein, who also wrote The Sound of Music (and thus the yodeling song about the goatherd).**


	3. Weasley Genes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were practically invisible when Victoire Disillusioned you. She told me once that sometimes she Disillusioned herself to hide from her kids, so she could use the bathroom alone.

I woke at the crack of noon the next day. Scorpius was already up and gone when I stumbled into the kitchen. I couldn't see any of his art stuff around so I assumed he'd gone off painting in the park or by the shore again. I ate a piece of toast smeared with marmalade – pretty much the extent of my culinary ability – and took stock.

I had no idea where Knapper might be. I had no idea why he'd run. I had no leads. I also had no money and a landlady hanging over my head like the Sword of Damocles.

My stock was in the toilet.

I decided Pulford was my best (read: only) angle on this. I wondered if he really did know where his brother was. It couldn't hurt to go check him out again, even though he gave me the collywobbles.

I had no more clean Muggle shirts, so I put on a purple shirt with a cartoon of Portia the Plucky Pygmy Puff on it and figured no one would notice.

It was a lovely afternoon in the Lake District. The sun warmed my shoulders as I walked down the lane toward Balthazar Pulford's cottage. A plume of turquoise smoke rose from the crumbling chimney, and I rolled my eyes. Surely the Muggles would notice that. People were eyeing the smoke as they walked, but no one was pointing or stopping or seeming to think anything weird was going on. Sheesh.

Trying Pulford again seemed optimistic to the point of folly given his previous reaction, so I decided to snoop around a bit. I walked around to the back of his property, which was even more overgrown than the front and looked even less inviting. There was a gentle slope down to his back garden, and I use that term in the loosest sense of the word. It had decaying evidence of gnome tunnels, a dead Flutterby bush and a few plants that I knew from Herbology classes were pretty vicious. There wasn't any real cover to speak of, just a few scraggly trees and even scragglier small bushes.

I tried to be sneaky and hid behind a hawthorn tree, trying to peer out over the limbs to get a look through his back windows. I could see someone moving around in the house, silhouetted against a filmy yellow curtain. The yellow looked to be from age rather than an intentional colour.

The silhouette was odd. I tilted my head to the side, trying to make it out. I thought it might be a woman. Maybe Pulford had a girlfriend. Or there was a Mrs. Pulford I didn't know about. If I started seeing the silhouette do anything dirty, I was so out of there.

I didn't think anyone could see me, but just in case, I pulled out a Shield Hat from my shoulder bag and pulled it on, shoving my hair up into the floppy straw hat. I always felt a little safer with one of these. One of my uncle's better inventions, really, although the Daydream Charms were the only thing that got me through History of Magic. Those might rank higher than the Shield Hats for me.

The Shield Hat had the added advantage of hiding my face a bit, so my nose wouldn't get sunburned. It was only a few years ago that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had started making Shield Hats in other styles than just the very popular black bowler hat. I liked those, but it was nice to have a little variety in one's hats. The straw sun-hat I was currently wearing was my favourite of the new designs. It felt very summery, and could block any 'amusing' hexes your little brother might try on you while you were sunbathing in addition to stylishly protecting you from potential psychopaths while on the job.

I could see two outlines in the window now, and my heart leaped. Was Knapper in there with his brother? I couldn't possibly have that kind of luck, could I? I watched for a minute to see if I could make out a face. They were moving something large, furniture maybe. I couldn't make out the people. It might be Pulford and Knapper, or Pulford and someone else, or a pair of ballerinas for all I knew.

If I had a good reason to believe Knapper was in there, I could legally go in and search for him. But I really didn't have good reason. Pulford had said Knapper hadn't contacted him since his arrest. He hadn't seemed to be lying, but it was hard to read him. Besides, Pulford gave me a bad feeling. I didn't want to go in his house if I wasn't sure Knapper was in there.

The two figures in the window suddenly disappeared. I moved a bit for a better look, and a rush of heat shot past me, right where my head had just been. I ducked and rolled, hiding behind some brush, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. What the hell was that? My ears still felt a little warm, and I realized the Shield Hat I'd been wearing was crumbling off my head.

I looked down at the remains of the hat. It was nothing but a pile of still-smouldering ash and a wisp of straw. I thanked God for Uncle George, and tried not to think about what would have happened if I hadn't been wearing the hat. That could have been my head down there smouldering.

“Gah,” I said inarticulately, and Apparated the hell out of there.

I went over to the Lupins' house. Sometimes I just feel better not being alone, especially when I'd just seen one of the best products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes destroyed right off my head. Fortunately I have a sometime-partner who loved to come out with me, and had useful skills for surveillance. I rapped on the door and Teddy appeared. He smiled, though it was a little wary at the edges.

“Hi Rose.”

“Hi Teddy. Can Victoire come out to play?” I gave him my best winsome, trustworthy smile.

“I don't trust you when you smile like that,” said Teddy. “Why is there burnt straw in your hair?”

Teddy was shoved aside by his wife then, who opened the door wide and waved me in. Victoire Lupin, to the eternal chagrin of her mother, greatly resembled our Gran. She was short and round, with bright ginger curls, and never quite lost her baby weight between children. Weasley genes can overpower anything, apparently. She was wearing stained blue robes. I identified marmalade, baby spit-up, and bogeys. None of this seemed to bother her, and she smiled at me as I came in.

“Hi Rose. Do you need some help?”

Victoire was my frequent partner in crime – er, bond enforcement. She liked to get out of the house, and I liked bringing her along on surveillance because she could do a really amazing Disillusionment Charm. You were practically invisible when Victoire Disillusioned you. She told me once that sometimes she Disillusioned herself to hide from her kids, so she could use the bathroom alone. It worked out great for me, cause I've never been good at that charm, and my inability to perform it well makes my job difficult sometimes. So I usually brought Victoire along when I needed to do surveillance, and we could sit right outside the house we had to watch, so long as we didn't forget we were invisible and giggle too loudly.

“Want to come with me and watch a house?”

“Oh, yes,” she said immediately. “I just put the baby down for a nap, you've perfect timing. Teddy, you don't mind, do you?”

Teddy looked as if he did mind, but Victoire hadn't waited for an answer, and was already grabbing her wand from a tall rack up on the wall. The Lupins had long ago installed this wand rack as a baby-proofing measure. If the fact that it was six feet off the ground didn't deter the children, the repelling charms on it would. Only Victoire and Teddy could touch it. I'd tested this out once, and those charms really stung.

“I'll be home later,” Victoire said, kissing Teddy on the cheek.

“Do you want to change your robes first?” I asked, eyeballing the stains.

“What? Oh, this.” Victoire waved her wand over her robes and the stains disappeared. I have got to learn some household spells already.

Victoire was a few years older than me, but somehow as we both got older, that mattered less and less. She was at a totally different place in her life than I was, but ever since her hen night, we'd been close. Nothing brings two people together like hiding the evidence where a male stripper had hog-tied one with her own fishnet hose and ripped her top off the night before her wedding.

We set off for Borrowdale, with a quick stop off at a patisserie near Victoire's house to pick up a bag of pastries. After all, surveillance shouldn't interfere with one's afternoon tea. And Victoire loved to eat when we were out. She said when she was at home, she only ate things that the children had refused to eat or had left half-eaten on the floor. On a good night, she ate the meal she'd actually prepared – after it had gone cold. Like any good Weasley, I loved to eat, so I found this glimpse of motherhood rather horrifying.

Victoire Disillusioned us both, and we made our way cautiously to Pulford's property line and found a place with a good view of the back of his house. I could see inside the double bank of windows. The house was dimly lit, so I couldn't make much out, but I didn't see him standing at the windows ready to hex me again. Progress.

Victoire was rummaging in the paper bag from the patisserie. We'd gotten a half dozen éclairs and a couple of petit fours. Surveillance food. She handed me an éclair, pulled out another for herself, and we sat in silence for a moment, chewing happily and watching the darkened house. Nobody seemed to be home at the Pulford residence. I wasn't too upset about that, actually.

“So who is this guy?” Victoire asked eventually.

“He's the half-brother of my skip. He's weird and creepy but he's the only thing resembling a lead that I have in this case.”

“Oh.” She took another bite, watching the house thoughtfully. “You think he knows where his brother went?”

“He says he doesn't.”

“Everyone lies,” Victoire said wisely.

This was true in my experience as well, but I thought she might be talking about her kids and/or her husband, so I didn't say anything. Victoire polished off her éclair, and pulled a petit four out of the bag.

“We could break in,” she suggested, popping the small cake into her mouth. “Take a look around.”

I remembered the rush of heat going over my head as Pulford's spell narrowly missed me and shivered. I didn't want to chance running into this guy. And I didn't want to be responsible for bringing Victoire into contact with him. We were already closer than was probably safe. “Maybe later.”

We stayed there, chatting quietly, for another hour. It was getting on dinnertime, and I still needed to grab a shower and wash the charred remains of the hat from my hair. Victoire had given it a quick cleaning with some charm or other, but there were still bits stuck in that only soap and water would get out. Still, it was an improvement. Scorpius might not even notice the burnt bits now.

“Do you want to come over for dinner?” Victoire asked as we crept away from Pulford's house to the relative safety of the tree-lined lane.

“I have to get back,” I said. “We're having dinner at my parents' house tonight.”

“Have fun with that,” said Victoire.

She Apparated back to her house, and I went back to my flat. Scorpius was getting dressed when I came in, and I rushed into the shower before he could get a good look at my hair. Best to avoid the subject altogether if possible. It would only upset him, then he'd yell, and then we'd both be in a bad mood to go to my parents' house. No, thank you.

Scorpius was sitting cross-legged on the bed when I came out of the bathroom. I got dressed quickly and tried to corral my hair into a ponytail.

“Any luck finding Knapper today?” he asked.

“Nope. I sat and watched his brother's house for a while, but I didn't see either of them.”

Scorpius looked deep in thought. I sat down next to him, and gave him a nudge with my elbow. “All right there?”

“Yeah.” He checked his watch. “We'd better go, we're going to be late.”

My parents' house is in Ottery St. Catchpole, near my grandparents' house. It's not terribly large. My dad has always seemed rather uncomfortable in big houses. Probably this is because the Burrow, where he grew up, is small and usually overcrowded. I can't imagine what it must have been like with seven kids at home; it's a wonder Gran didn't go mad. Our house had plenty of room for the four of us when my brother and I had been living at home, and it seemed larger since we'd moved out. Hugo lived in a flat near St. Mungo's Hospital with two other Healer trainees, but we both come home every Sunday for dinner. Hugo was between girlfriends right now, so he'd be alone. He didn't mind Scorpius though and was always good about running interference between Scorpius and Dad.

“We're here!” I called out as we came inside and hung our jackets on the coat rack in the foyer.

Dad appeared in the hallway and grinned at me. “I hear you blew up Pyxis Parmenter's house.”

Scorpius chuckled, and I groaned. “It wasn't my fault, Dad.”

“You've been saying that since you were a little girl,” Dad said. “And I didn't believe you then, either.”

He gave me a kiss on the forehead, nodded at Scorpius, and we all went into the living room. Hugo waved to us from the couch, and I smiled at my little brother. He had curlier hair than I did, more like Mum's hair, but it was disguised partly by the short length he kept it at. It was a darker ginger than my own curls, but I always thought Hugo looked just as obviously Weasley as I did. He was a nice kid. We'd gotten closer as we both got older. That seems to happen. Victoire and Dominique got along much better now than they had ten years ago, especially now that Dominique's had a kid too.

I sat down in the middle of the sofa next to Hugo, with Scorpius on my other side. Dad plopped into the dark red armchair and hit the lever for the recliner, his feet popping up in the air as he leaned back.

“How's work, Dad?” I asked.

“Bloody bunch of crazies out there,” he said.

“Who, your bad guys?”

“No, the reporters who keep bothering me about this damned Venatici case. Completely mental, the lot of them. They make the bad guys look normal.”

I'd always called them _Dad's bad guys_ , the wizards and witches that Dad tracked down and captured. When I was a kid, I'd thought my dad was the greatest wizard ever, a hero who defeated bad guys every day, and proudly told everyone that my dad was an Auror. I still thought of him as a hero, especially knowing what he'd done with Mum and Uncle Harry during the war, and I'd never quite gotten over the habit of calling the Dark wizards he brought in _Dad's bad guys_.

There was a loud bang from the kitchen, and Mum appeared in the doorway with a cloud of smoke, red-faced but with a fake smile plastered on her face. She trilled out, “Everything's under control!” before disappearing into the kitchen again.

Dad looked pained, but he didn't say anything. If Mum didn't know for sure that he loved her, the fact that he was still married to her even though she was a haphazard cook at best ought to have proved it to her. My dad loved to eat. He was even willing to choke down some of the gunk Mum turned up when she deviated from one of Nana's recipes. If she followed the recipe the way Nana had taught her, she was pretty decent. It was when she tried something new that she went astray. Unfortunately, she sometimes got this weird urge to impress us all with hitherto unknown culinary skills, and tonight was apparently one of those nights.

“I can order a pizza,” Hugo offered. “Or Chinese.”

Dad shook his head. “Give your mother a chance. Rose, why don't you just go, er, check on your mother?”

The unspoken addition - _check that nothing was on fire_ \- hung in the air. I left the men sitting in the den, secure in the knowledge that Hugo would prevent Dad from hexing Scorpius if he got too hungry. Dad's mean when he's hungry. Mum says he's hypoglycemic and can't help it. I think she's just covering for him.

Mum was standing at the stove with her nose buried in a cookbook. Her hair had gotten very bushy from the steam and smoke that was billowing from the two pots on the stove.

“I don't understand what went wrong,” she said when she saw me. “I followed the recipe exactly, I swear.”

She always said this. She really took it personally when she felt a book had failed her. “Want me to send Hugo out for Chinese?”

Mum was frowning at the cookbook. “Do you suppose the recipe is wrong? I should write to the publisher.”

“Yes, Mum, you can send them a sharply worded note tomorrow, but for now, Dad's getting hungry.”

“All right, send Hugo for Chinese.” She shut the cookbook in defeat, still glaring at it.

I opened the kitchen door long enough to nod at Hugo, who instantly got up and headed for the door. Scorpius quickly jumped to his feet and followed him. I heard my dad coming into the kitchen behind me as I went back to help Mum with the remains of whatever she'd been trying to cook. Mum gave Dad an apologetic look as she put out the smoking pot with water from her wand.

“I'm sorry, Ron, I followed the recipe exactly.”

He cracked a small smile and kissed her on the temple. “I'm sure you did.”

“How's work going, Rose?” Mum asked as I gave the other pot a half-hearted Scouring Charm and set it in the sink.

“All right. I'm having a bit of a time finding the latest skip, though.” I remembered Mrs. Knapper, and added, “His wife may need your help if I can't find him, Mum. She's custodian for him.”

Mum's eyes flashed. “Mr. Agnelli wrote another custodian bond? I told him I have a referendum up to have that law repealed!”

Angelo and Mum didn't get along. Angelo didn't really get along with anyone, but he particularly disliked Mum. I don't think he gave a crap if she told him not to write custodian bonds. “It's still legal until the referendum passes, Mum,” I said.

“Who is this custodian, now?” Dad asked. “Is this on that Knapper bloke you asked me about?”

Mum looked alarmed. “One of your father's cases?”

“He's not really a Dark wizard, Hermione,” Dad said soothingly. “He's just a middleman. He sells anything that will make him some money, and sometimes that means a Dark object or two. He's mostly harmless.”

“I wish you wouldn't put yourself in danger this way,” Mum said to me, apparently unconvinced by Dad's words.

“All I did today was some surveillance with Victoire. It was perfectly safe. One hundred percent. No danger at all.” I gave her the same smile I gave most people, the very sincere and trustworthy one. It didn't work on my mother any better than it had on Teddy Lupin.

“You know, they're hiring over at Scrivenshaft's,” she said. “Your cousin Lucy works there, she does well enough for herself.”

I really needed to practice my trustworthy smile more. “I already have a job, Mum.”

She didn't look convinced. “I'm sure I could find room for you in my office, or somewhere in the Ministry. I've got good connections.”

I really didn't want to work at the Ministry, not for my mum, or Uncle Harry, or my dad either. Or worse, Uncle Percy. Don't get me wrong, I love my family, but I'd sooner die. “Really, Mum, I'm not looking for a job. I would never fit in at the Ministry anyway.”

Mum sighed, but she refrained from giving me the 'why are you breaking your poor mother's heart' lecture again. It's tough being the oldest. Your parents have their expectations set so high. By the time the next kid comes along, the expectations are significantly lowered. I was such a disappointment, Hugo could just about start up nude Kneazle-herding and make my parents proud. At least he wasn't living in non-gainfully-employed sin with a Malfoy.

Scorpius and Hugo returned with a half dozen large cartons of Chinese food, and we all dug in. As my dad gathered up the detritus of dinner, I decided now was as good a time as any and opened my mouth to ask my parents if they could spare a couple hundred Galleons. I was interrupted before I could get a word out by a nudge from Scorpius. He shook his head at me, and I frowned.

“Later,” he said.

What the hell? I gave him a confused look and he shook his head again. I rolled my eyes. I guess we're not hitting up my parents for money after all. I was a bit relieved about that, actually.

The more we asked for money from my parents, the less I felt I could live my own life freely. If my mum and dad were paying my rent, I sort of felt they had a right to tell me I shouldn't be living with Malfoy, or eating food over the sink, or not scrubbing the bathroom properly. So I really didn't want to ask them for money unless it was absolutely necessary. Guess Scorpius hadn't hit the absolute part of that yet. Maybe he'd sold a painting while he was getting Chinese with Hugo. Hope springs eternal, though like many springs, it smells like rotten eggs.

“What was that about?” I asked him after we'd made good our escape from my parents' house.

“I think I have some income for us,” Scorpius said.

“Oh yeah? Going to start selling hot cauldrons?”

He ignored that. “Just give me some time.”

I pestered him until we went to bed, but he wouldn't tell me where he thought he was going to get the money. I fell asleep hoping if it was illegal, he wouldn't get caught. Scorpius knew all my tricks. I'm pretty sure if he skipped out on a bond, I'd never find him.


	4. Small-Time Hoods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had just taken a step back to think about what to do next when I heard Harmon Ladd muttering from inside. I ducked down, curling into a ball with my arms protecting my head just as the blast went overhead right where my face had just been. The window next to Ladd's front door had shattered as the spell went through it, and there was glass all over the front stoop, and all over me.  
> *********************************************************************************************************

Angelo's Magical Bonds is in Knockturn Alley, just at the front in a run-down little building, a fact that made my dad turn bright red in the face and yell incoherently for twenty minutes when I first started working there. Now he just twitched slightly whenever I mentioned stopping by the office. I Apparated from my flat to the corner of Diagon and Knockturn Alleys and went into the shop. Lydia was at her desk, a cup of tea stirring itself in front of her while she ate biscotti.

“Good morning, Rose,” Lydia said cheerfully. “Any luck with Knapper yet?”

“Nope. Tell me you've got something new, a quick pick-up.”

She opened a filing drawer in her desk and pulled out a couple of folders. “I think I've got an easy one today.”

“Thanks, Lydia,” I said gratefully.

“No problem. Want to go out for lunch?”

“Sure. Meet you at the Leaky around one.”

Angelo stuck his head out of his office and gave me an impatient look. “Did you find Knapper yet?”

“Not yet.”

“What the hell good are you? Why am I always surrounded by idiots? All you people want is to take my money and not do any damn work for it.” He glanced at his niece when he said this.

Lydia looked as if she were considering stabbing her uncle in the leg. I wondered if that was work, or if she should do it on her own time. It would probably be considered a service to humanity by any reasonable judge.

“You better find him fast,” Angelo said. “I need that money back.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Lighten up, Uncle Angelo. Is your bookie threatening to break your knees or something?”

“You're trying to kill me, both of you. I can feel my arteries hardening. It's coming – the fatal coronary,” Angelo said, putting a fist to his chest. “Get the hell out of my office and find Knapper.” He disappeared back into his office and slammed the door.

Jeez. I grabbed the file from Lydia and headed for the door, but walked smack into someone coming in.

Dino Agnelli steadied me as I wobbled from the impact. He was grinning.

“All right there, Rose?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” I noticed the body receipt in his hand. Dino was Angelo's cousin, in his early forties, with dark hair and eyes and a large Roman nose. I usually blamed Angelo for nepotism, but honestly, Dino was good at his job. He was a much better bond enforcement agent than I was. He went after the really dangerous skips, the ones I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. I was starting to think I should have left Knapper for Dino, but hell, I needed the money more than he did.

“I heard you're looking for Butrus Knapper,” he said.

“Yeah, I am. Haven't found him yet.”

“Good luck with that,” Dino said, heading in for Lydia's desk.

No help at all. Ah well. I flipped through the file Lydia had given me as I started down the street. Harmon Ladd, living in a town called Bayvil over in Pembrokeshire, arrested on a domestic disturbance. Great. Domestic disturbances are some of my least-favourite pickups. Either the bloke is a total jerk who won't cooperate because a female bounty hunter came for him, or the battered wife hexes me when my back is turned for taking her husband away.

I Apparated to the address given in the file, but no one was home. I waited around for half an hour, hoping Ladd or Mrs. Ladd would come home. After I'd done a colour-changing charm three times on my fingernails, I finally gave up. I'd come back later tonight to check on this guy. Maybe I could get some new leads on old Knapper before I met Lydia for lunch.

I canvassed Knockturn Alley, asking everyone who looked even slightly shady – which constituted pretty much everyone there – if they knew Butrus Knapper. One or two shied away from me before I could ask them, which I thought was suspicious, but the consensus was universal: no one knew anything about Knapper.

I went in to Borgin and Burkes to ask if anybody in there had seen Knapper, and saw a familiar face examining a display of small vials filled with substances of dubious origin.

“What are you doing in here, Lenny?”

Leonard Graves smiled at me, but he looked a bit embarrassed. “Um...”

I laughed. “You know what? Don't tell me.”

Lenny's face relaxed a bit. “Cheers, Rose. I haven't seen you in ages. Still working for Agnelli?”

“Yeah. Still posting bail through Pilliwickle's instead?” Pilliwickle's was the more upscale bonds office, at the far end of Diagon Alley. They had potted plants in their office. And clean windows. I bet Mrs. Pilliwickle didn't berate her bounty hunters for not picking up a skip fast enough. Sniff.

“My dad says it's the best,” Lenny said, shrugging.

Lenny's dad was famous and extremely wealthy: he'd played cello for The Weird Sisters, and even though they broke up over fifteen years ago, people still liked to gossip about how Merton Graves' son was a petty criminal. I'd known Lenny for years, he'd been a friend of my cousin Dominique at school. He'd gotten involved with what my mum called 'a bad crowd' right after leaving school and had gone downhill from there. His dad always bailed him out, and Lenny always got into even worse trouble. One of these days he was going to get himself killed. It made me sad to see him standing there, smiling twitchily at me and looking like he'd been on a week-long bender, and think about how clean and smart he'd been at school. Powdered dragon claw was a hell of a drug.

The other thing about Lenny was that he talked to _everyone_ , and because of both who his father was and his own drug habit and petty theft charges, they talked to him. He always seemed to know who everyone was in the criminal underbelly of the wizarding world. Lenny was often a good source of information, if you could catch him at a time when his mind was currently residing in his body.

I fished the photo of Knapper out of my pocket and showed it to him. “Do you know this bloke, Lenny?”

“Butrus Knapper?” He shook his head. “Not personally. You want to stay away from him, Rose. You'll get involved in very bad things.”

“My dad says he's a nobody.”

“Maybe your dad isn't as in the know as he likes to think he is. Ron Weasley doesn't know everything.”

I frowned at him, stowing the Knapper photo back in my pocket. “What have you got against my dad?”

“Nothing. Nevermind. Look, Rose, could you, uh...” Lenny looked around furtively then leaned closer to whisper to me. “Don't mention to anyone that you saw me here, would you?”

“Oh, Lenny, are you on the run _again_?”

He coughed slightly, looking twitchier than ever. “Just, you know, if you happen to run into any Pilliwickle's bounty hunters...”

I sighed. Poor old Lenny. I wished he would clean up his act, but I wasn't going to turn him in to Pilliwickle's. And hey, maybe Angelo would stop yelling at me about Knapper if I told him I helped Pilliwickle's lose a bit of gold over Lenny Graves. “I won't say anything.”

“Cheers, Rose,” he said again, and I saw a flash of the old Lenny in his smile, the Lenny who'd laughed and flirted and played guitar sitting on the lawn at school.

I headed back to the office and picked Lydia up, and we strolled up Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron. Lydia was trying to stop smoking, and instead she'd taken up chewing gum. I think her purse was entirely full of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. She was leaving a trail of blue bubbles behind her as we walked. I'd tried to get her to use Muggle gum that didn't have any special effects, but she said the flavour didn't last as long as wizard sweets.

Lydia Agnelli was a bit younger than me, a bit shorter, and loved to gossip just as much. She'd gone to school with my cousin Lily and my brother Hugo. I'm pretty sure she went out with Hugo for a while during their fifth year, but it was hard to keep track of the swath of girls my brother had left behind over the years, so I couldn't be sure about that. She'd remained friends with Lily, however, and eventually with me as well. It was through Lydia that I'd started working for Angelo. She'd told me all about her cousin Dino one time and how he caught witches and warlocks who couldn't be found by the law, and it had sounded so incredibly cool that in a moment of rum-filled insanity I'd said I could do it as well, and next thing I knew I was working for Angelo. Of course, I didn't find people who the law couldn't find. I found people the law couldn't be _bothered_ to find.

We found a seat in the Leaky Cauldron and soon the landlady was bringing us butterbeers and sandwiches. Mrs. Longbottom and her husband were old friends of my parents, and she always gave me extra-large portions when I came by for lunch. It always made me feel a bit guilty for not paying better attention to her husband in Herbology back at school. Oh well.

“Angelo's bookie stopped by this morning after you left,” Lydia said after Mrs. Longbottom had bustled off to help another customer. “They were locked in his office for twenty minutes.”

I grinned. “Did you use an Extendable Ear to listen in?”

“I tried, but he'd made the door Imperturbable.” Her expression said that she thought her uncle had no right to prevent her from eavesdropping on him while his bookie threatened to break his kneecaps.

Angelo always owed someone money. He had what Dino kindly called a wee bit of a gambling problem and Lydia more accurately called a raging addiction to betting on whatever magical creatures were battling in underground fights in the back rooms of Knockturn Alley. I'd heard that some Muggles watched dogs fighting, or bears or other animals. Wizards trained anything from Blood-Sucking Bugbears to Kneazles to fight each other. It was illegal as all get-out, but that didn't stop Angelo from placing a bet. Once we'd caught him Flooing a bet for a hundred Galleons on a yeti versus a mountain troll.

“I wonder how much he owes now,” I said around a bit of sandwich. I know, talking with my mouth full. I've heard it from my mother a hundred times, but sometimes you just have to say something and can't wait to swallow your food.

“It must be in the thousands, or they wouldn't come to his office. They don't usually do that. Normally he just gets nasty Floos about making payments.” Lydia took a long drink of her butterbeer, and we ate in silence for a while. Eventually she asked, “How's it going with your skips?”

“Not well. I can't find any trace of Knapper. It's like he was eaten by Pogrebins or something.”

Lydia picked at the sesame seeds on her sandwich, looking as if she wanted to say something but knew she shouldn't. I watched her warily for a moment, and then she asked, “Have you thought of checking with Scorpius's family?”

“Why should they know anything about him?” I asked in surprise.

“Well, you know his family has a certain reputation. I just thought, maybe they might know something...”

I considered that for a moment, taking a long drink of my butterbeer. It was possible that Mr. Malfoy knew something, but I'd always been under the impression that he hadn't been involved in anything Dark since the war ended. I was pretty sure my dad wouldn't have hesitated to mention it if he had. My dad still didn't like the idea of my being around the Malfoy family. Scorpius didn't like to talk about his family's past as what could only be called some of the Darkest of the Dark wizards who'd fought for and believed in Voldemort – the very essence of 'Dad's bad guys.'

Still, I doubted they would know anything about a petty criminal like Knapper. He seemed too small-time for them to have known anything about him. Even my dad couldn't be bothered with him.

I remembered then what Lenny had said about _very bad things_ and felt a sudden chill. Maybe Knapper wasn't as petty as everyone thought. I needed to look into him more, but first I needed to go back to Harmon Ladd's again.

I left Lydia back at the office in a cloud of blue bubbles, and Apparated back to Pembrokeshire. I could see lights on in the house, so someone was at home. With any amount of luck, I'd have this bloke in the clink by mid-afternoon and be slightly less broke as well.

I walked up to the door and rang the bell. The strains of an old Celestina Warbeck song played, and I winced. Nice musical taste, Ladd. I could hear someone approaching, and a peephole suddenly came to life in the door, aiming its bright blue eyeball at me.

“Harmon Ladd?” I asked loudly.

“Who's askin'?” came a gruff voice from inside. It didn't sound like a very happy voice. I had a bad feeling about this, but I pressed on.

“I'm Rose Weasley, I work for Angelo Agnelli. You missed your court date, and I need to bring you in to reschedule.”

“Bugger that for a lark,” he said. “I'm staying right in here, and there's nothin' you can do about it.”

I gritted my teeth. “You have to come in, Mr. Ladd. I have the legal authority to bring you in with whatever force is necessary.” I'd heard Dino say this and it sounded good, but it was pretty much an empty threat from me. The only way I'd managed to injure anyone thus far had been accidental. And demolishing Parmenter's house certainly didn't count, although I suppose that had been necessary force.

“No way,” said Ladd. “I'm not going to the Ministry, I ain't done nothin' wrong!”

“You attacked your wife!”

“She's a dumb Mudblood!”

“Well then, why'd you marry her?”

“She tricked me!” he yelled.

Uh-huh. Anybody who married this jerk must've been on a controlled substance of some kind. “Are you going to open the door or not?”

“Bugger off, blood traitor bitch!”

“That won't work on me,” I yelled back. “I'm a Weasley, you know how many times I've been called a blood traitor?”

He yelled back something even less complimentary about my parentage, but he didn't open the door. Damn. I tried a couple of spells on his door, but it stayed locked tight. I had just taken a step back to think about what to do next when I heard Ladd muttering from inside, and my reflexes took over. I ducked down, curling into a ball with my arms protecting my head just as the blast went overhead right where my face had just been. The window next to Ladd's front door had shattered as the spell went through it, and there was glass all over the front stoop, and all over me.

In the immortal words of my cousin Fred, this sucked royal hippogriff. I kept my arms over my head, still curled in a ball, and Apparated out of there.

One of my few useful job skills was the ability to Apparate from any position. I didn't need to do the stand-and-twirl gig to escape from armed felons. I could Apparate from sitting, crouching, laying down, upside down while falling off a cliff, whatever. Once I'd been on holiday at Broadsands with Scorpius and got stuck under a wave, smashed down against the ocean floor, and panicked and Apparated back to the beach. No Muggles had seen me suddenly appear out of thin air, luckily, but the fish I'd accidentally brought along had seemed pretty confused.

I reappeared in Diagon Alley outside Gringott's, and patted myself down quickly to make sure all my bits were still there. So much for an easy pickup. I decided the day was a wash, and went home to sulk. Scorpius was there when I walked in the door, wearing his best robes.

“What're you all dressed up for?” I asked. I probably sounded a little surly, but damn, it had been an irritating afternoon. I hate when people try to curse me. I really needed to buy some more Shield Hats. Shame I didn't have any money. I'd stop by my uncle's shop tomorrow and try to wheedle some out of him on credit, or if all else failed, shoplift a few.

“I had a job interview today. I start tomorrow morning.”

I dropped my handbag on the sofa and stared at him, stunned. “A job? A proper job with a regular paycheck?”

“Yes, that sort of job.” Scorpius leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “Don't look so bloody surprised, Rose.”

“Sorry.” I was aware that my mouth was still hanging open, and closed it while I tried to pick my brains back up off the floor. A job? _Scorpius_? I didn't think he'd ever had a proper job. “What sort of job is it?”

“A junior clerk position at the Ministry,” he said. “In the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office.”

“But you don't know anything about Muggles,” I pointed out, even more flabbergasted.

“Nor did the interviewer,” Scorpius said. “To be honest, I don't think anyone else applied. They probably would have taken anyone. Pulse optional. Besides, I know quite a bit about Muggle music, thank you.”

Yeah, Muggle theatre music from eighty years ago. The bit about the lack of other applicants didn't actually surprise me though. My dad sometimes talked about the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office, often with a rather guilty look on his face. From what I gathered, it was a place one generally ended up when one had done something to annoy one's superior, such as turning his mother into a goat. I'm not sure anyone in that office actually set out to work there.

“It was all I could get, Rose,” Scorpius added. “You know I didn't do well on my N.E.W.T.s.”

He was a little sensitive about that, and I suddenly felt bad for him. I went to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “I know you didn't want to do this. When I find Knapper, you can go back to painting.”

He dropped a kiss in my hair. “You're damn right I will. I'm _filing_ , Rose.”

I tried not to smile. Scorpius was not meant for a life pushing paper. Scorpius was meant to be on stage or standing at the back of an art gallery drinking wine and schmoozing with rich patrons of the arts. He might even have been destined for an older, extremely rich woman being his (air quote) patroness, but he was with me instead. Take that, smarmy old rich woman.

“We should celebrate,” I said. “Let's go out for a drink.”

“Who's paying? We haven't any money.”

“I'll wear a low-cut top, maybe I can get someone to buy us drinks.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes at that.

I Flooed my brother to come along while Scorpius got changed. By the time we reached the seedy little pub the boys favoured when they went out boozing, Hugo was already waiting for us with a drink in his hand and a familiar dark-haired young man by his side.

“I invited Albus as well,” Hugo said as he shook Scorpius's hand.

“Heard about your new job,” Albus said, holding out a hand to Scorpius. “Congratulations, mate.”

“It's nothing, really,” Scorpius said, shaking Albus's hand and looking rather embarrassed, but Albus and Hugo both insisted on buying a round of drinks to celebrate.

My cousin James turned up half an hour later, and he bought a round as well. By this time, I was starting to feel a little woozy, but James needled me about not keeping up with the men – he knows me too well – and I drank four more rounds with them. Free liquor! I love my cousins sometimes. And my brother as well. My family's not so bad, really.

I was feeling so cheerful, basking in familial love and free booze, that I started singing along with the wireless playing on the bar. My singing improves when I drink. Or at least, my perception of it does. I normally never sing, and Hugo and Albus were laughing at me, so I kicked my brother in the shin. James seemed to find the entire thing utterly hilarious, so I tried to kick him too and landed on my behind on the floor with a crash.

Scorpius picked up my drink suspiciously and took a sip while Hugo hopped around, clutching his leg. He let out his breath in a _waugh._ “Good Lord, Rose, no wonder you're so juiced up.” He snatched Albus's drink out of his hand and took a sip, then shook his head and gave James a suspicious look. James's wand was sticking out of his pocket, and Scorpius frowned at him. “Did you tamper with Rose's drinks?”

“Just upped the proof a little in her vodka,” James said with a grin.

Albus helped me to my feet, and I was overcome for a moment with vertigo, little black sparkles dancing on the edge of my vision. When the world came back again, James was Scourgifying vomit off his shoes while Albus was red-faced with laughter and Scorpius looked at him reprovingly.

“I suppose that'll teach you to mess with her drinks in future,” he said to James.

James made a disgusted noise.


	5. Gainfully Employed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cor,” Fred said, looking around at the neighbourhood. “Do you always go to areas like this? My mum would kill me if she saw me here.”
> 
> My mum would kill me if she saw me here, too. I didn't want to tell him this wasn't even as bad as some places I'd been. I wasn't sure if it would make him want to be a bounty hunter more or less.  
> *****************************************************************************************

I didn't remember Scorpius leaving the next morning. There was a note on the kitchen counter when I finally managed to stumble out of bed around noon, telling me he was at work and I was on my own for a Hangover-Curing Potion. Great. Like we had any of the bloody ingredients to brew one even if I could remember how.

I opened the refrigerator and squinted into it, hoping that food had magically appeared overnight. It had not. I scrounged in the cupboards and eventually found a packet of stale biscuits, which I washed down with tap water, my head pounding and feeling very sorry for myself.

After standing under a hot shower for twenty minutes, I finally reckoned I could face the day. My first order of business would be to find my cousin James and hex him into next week. Wait, he'd be at work. Suddenly it seemed everyone had a regular job except me. I decided I'd better go over to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes instead, and managed to towel myself off, though drying my hair was too painful to contemplate. I found the darkest pair of sunglasses I could and ventured out, wondering if I should swallow my pride and go to my brother for a Hangover-Curing Potion.

I headed for Diagon Alley and my uncle's shop. The glaring colours and flashing signs made my eyes hurt even through the sunglasses, and I squinted as I went inside. I didn't see Uncle George anywhere, and no one was paying any attention to me as I headed for the racks of Shield Hats and stared at the display.

I had no money. I was in no condition to sweet-talk anyone. Shoplifting seemed the way to go, but I couldn't quite bring myself to do it. My mother would _kill_ me if she found out.

“Can I help you- oh, it's you, Rosie.”

I turned and came face to face with my uncle, a stocky older man with thinning red hair shot with grey and a bit too much belly from years of eating my aunt Angelina's delicious cooking. Sometimes I was rather jealous of my cousins, when I compared Aunt Angelina's cooking to my mother's. Uncle George was smiling at me kindly, and gave a low whistle.

“You don't look so good,” he said, grinning. “Out late tippling?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, taking off my sunglasses.

“In the market for a new Shield Hat already? You only just bought your last one.” Uncle George plucked a pink beret off the shelf and placed it on my head.

“It was destroyed.”

Uncle George's hand paused on top of my head for a moment. “How do you mean, destroyed?”

“Someone tried to curse me and the hat just... burned into cinders.”

He looked grave, an unusual expression for Uncle George. “Rose, it takes a lot to turn one of these into ashes. What are you involved in?”

“It's nothing, really, just work, don't worry.” I snatched the beret off my hair and put it back on the shelf, taking a yellow straw sunhat instead.

Uncle George didn't look convinced. I gave him what I hoped was a wide grin and tried to look cheerful and confident, but this seemed to convince him to stop worrying even less. Damn hangover. Uncle George grabbed a second yellow straw hat off the rack and handed it to me. “Maybe you should have a back-up, then.”

I couldn't even pay for one hat, much less two. I tried to ask him sweetly to let me pay him next week, but it came out a dejected, “I don't have the money for these, Uncle George.”

Uncle George's expression softened a bit. “Go on, take them. I don't want anyone killing you if I can help it.”

“Thank you.” I hugged him, the hats still clutched firmly in my hand, and felt my eyes welling up a bit with hangover-fueled feelings of love for my family. Annoying as they could be at times, they did stick up for me in wonderful ways, like buying me free booze and giving me free Defence Against the Dark Arts merchandise so I didn't get my head cursed off.

“What's going on over here? Hi Rose.” My cousin Fred appeared between the shelves and grinned at me. “Wow, you look like hell.”

Uncle George gave me a quick squeeze and released me. “Don't get yourself killed, all right Rosie?”

I nodded, and he disappeared into the shop. Fred turned to me.

“Get yourself killed?” he echoed.

“It's nothing,” I said, mopping my eyes.

Fred eyed me suspiciously. “You look bladdered, Rose, were you out last night?”

“Yeah, I was at the pub with Scorpius, Hugo, and Albus. And James,” I added with a frown, remembering that I still needed to hex James.

“You went boozing last night with all them, and you didn't invite me?” Fred demanded, looking offended.

I winced. “A little quieter please, Fred.”

“You suck, Rose,” Fred said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I thought we were mates.”

Fred was James's age and tended to hang with him more than with me, but all my cousins were my mates, really. Now I felt guilty for not inviting him along, even though I hadn't actually invited Albus or James. “Sorry, Fred. Next time you can come. I have to get going, I need to work today-”

His ears perked up, honestly. “Can I come along?”

Fred thought my job was very cool, which was easy for him to say when he had an awesome job working for his cool dad. Fred had been living in the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes since he'd left school, and he'd been working for his dad since he was fourteen. It seemed generally known that Fred would take over the shop someday. His sister, my cousin Roxanne, certainly had no interest in it. She wanted to be a journalist like my aunt Ginny. Fred liked working in the shop, but I think he had dreams of being the kind of bounty hunter that Dino Agnelli was. He wouldn't be so impressed with it if he saw me in action.

I was still feeling guilty and hung over, and I heard the words coming out of my mouth without really filtering through my brain. “Sure, come on.”

Fred looked happy and said, “Give me a minute to tell my dad I need the afternoon off.”

As he darted off through the shop, I called after him, “You'll need Muggle clothes!”

What was I thinking? Of all the cousins to bring along while I worked, Fred seemed one of the least likely to be helpful in any way. I stuffed the two Shield Hats into my bag, kicking myself mentally. I didn't even bring Victoire along if there was a likelihood of actual interaction with anyone. I tried to hang on to the feeling of familial love that I'd had a few minutes ago, but it seemed to be escaping me.

I went over my mental plan for the day while I waited for Fred to return. First, I would stop by Mrs. Knapper's again and see if he'd been in contact with her. Maybe she'd thought of something helpful. I wanted to keep tabs on her. Then I was going over to try Harmon Ladd again, and then I was going to track my cousin James down and cause him bodily harm.

This seemed like a good plan, but it was already after two in the afternoon, and daylight was burning. Fred came down just as I was debating leaving him a note saying he could come along next time.

“Dad says don't forget, we're supposed to have dinner at the Burrow tonight with the whole family for Aunt Ginny's birthday,” Fred said as he rejoined me.

Aw crap. I'd forgotten all about that. My dad would skin me alive if I didn't show up, so it was lucky I'd come by or I'd have been found dead in a ditch tomorrow. Scorpius hadn't mentioned it either, so he must've forgotten as well in all the excitement of having an actual job. Normally he kept track of our social calendar, since he was much more responsible than I was.

Fred and I set off for _chez Knapper_ then. I had my fingers crossed that Butrus Knapper had come home to his wife. It seemed unlikely, though, especially if she really had changed the locks on him.

“Cor,” Fred said, looking around at the neighbourhood. “Do you always go to areas like this? My mum would kill me if she saw me here.”

My mum would kill me if she saw me here, too. I didn't want to tell him this wasn't even as bad as some places I'd been. I wasn't sure if it would make him want to be a bounty hunter more or less.

Mrs. Knapper answered the door in a housecoat, her hair in curlers, but she let us in. She was staring at Fred as we came in and sat down on the filthy sofa. She didn't appear to have cleaned anything since I'd last been here, and she was drinking again. I wondered if that had been her habit before her husband abandoned her, too.

“What the hell are _you_ wearing?” she asked Fred, eyeing his outfit.

“Muggle clothes,” he said, looking down at the red and green plaid kilt and purple floral lace-trimmed tank top he was wearing. “Muggles wear these clothes. I'm blending in.”

“You people make my ass twitch,” Mrs. Knapper said, and tossed back her whiskey.

“Have you heard from Butrus at all?” I asked, and Fred immediately let out a snort. “Shut up, Fred.”

Mrs. Knapper was giving Fred the evil eye. “No, he hasn't been home.”

I could hear a dog barking in their backyard, a high-pitched yipping that grated across my hung over nerves, and struggled to maintain a pleasant demeanour when I wanted to go Silence the damn dog. “Have you thought of anything else that could help me find him?”

She shook her head, but dog's barking seemed to be distracting her too. “Excuse me one moment.”

Fred waited until she'd left the room before chuckling. “Dude's name is Butrus? Did he insult his mother when he was born or something?”

“Not helping, Fred,” I said warningly. “I need to stay on his wife's good side so she'll help me find this guy. I don't have any leads.”

“Maybe we could search his room for clues?” Fred suggested.

That was actually a good idea. Maybe I should bring Fred along more often after all. Lomatia Knapper was coming back now, the yapping stopped. I decided it wouldn't hurt to ask. “Mrs. Knapper, I've been searching for Butrus but haven't found any leads on where he might have gone. Would you mind if we looked around a little at his things, in case it gives us any sort of clue about his location?”

She picked up her glass again, shrugging. “Knock yourselves out.”

Butrus Knapper kept what could only loosely be called a desk in the back of the rowhouse behind the kitchen. It was nothing but a battered wooden table with a single wide drawer, piled high with stacks of paper, beneath a shelf filled with pickled internal organs that I chose to believe had come from animals, and a shrunken head that definitely had not.

“Ugh,” said Fred, taking it in. “I thought this guy was just some bloke you were picking up. This looks like Dark magic to me.”

“Don't be a wuss,” I said, pulling open the drawer and poking around. “Look for anything with dates, locations, names, something that would tell us someone he has a connection with or places he might be known at.”

“Right.” Fred grabbed a stack of papers and started looking through them.

We searched in silence for a while, and eventually he said, “I think I found something.”

He handed me a torn piece of parchment with the words _Merman's Tail_ scrawled on it. “So?” I said. “What does that mean?”

Fred rolled his eyes at me. “That's a wizard pub, you idiot. It's over in West London, and not in a good part of town.”

“How d'you know about it, then?”

“I had to pick Louis up there once, that time he met that witch from Romania and nobody saw him for three days, and he said he'd been kidnapped but really he was just drunk.”

Sadly, this was a regular occurrence with our cousin Louis.

Fred tapped the paper. “Look, these numbers here, I think that's a date, and it looks like there was a name at the top, but it's been ripped off.”

I looked at the numbers and felt a chill. If they were a date, it was the day Butrus Knapper had disappeared. I could hear Lenny's voice in my head again. _Very bad things_...

“Now what?” Fred wanted to know.

“There's nothing else here,” I said, tossing the papers I'd been holding back onto the desk. “Let's go. Want to come along on a pick-up?”

“Yeah, sure,” Fred said easily. “Where are we going?”

“Pembrokeshire.”

“I love Wales. Will you buy me a souvenir?”

We said our good-byes to Lomatia Knapper, who saw us out with a beady eye on Fred, and then we found a deserted alley to Apparate from.

“What about Knapper?” Fred asked as we walked toward the town where Harmon Ladd lived.

“I'll go check out that pub later. It's too early now, I want to go in the evening when there's the best chance of catching a good lot of people, and tonight is Aunt Ginny's birthday dinner. It'll have to wait until tomorrow. But I might be able to catch another skip at home.”

Fred looked excited. “You're going to let me help you catch this guy?”

I was going to use him as bait, sort of. “Yup.”

“And you'll let me go with you to the Merman's Tail tomorrow?”

Hell to the no. “We'll see.”

Fred seemed to take that as acquiescence. “So what do we do with this guy?”

“His house is sealed up tight against jinxes and hexes, but I'm betting there are holes in his protective wards on the roof. First though, we ask him nicely to come out and let us take him into custody.”

“Does that ever work?”

“Nope.”

Harmon Ladd had repaired his window, I saw as we approached the house. I could see movement behind it. Someone was home. I had yet to meet Mrs. Ladd, so it might be her, but Ladd had been home yesterday at this time – and locked down tight – so I was betting it was him.

“So do we go in and yell _Bounty hunters! Freeze!_ or do we just hex him?” Fred asked eagerly, his step bouncing as he walked next to me. It was like working with a large puppy.

“You can't just hex first, you're supposed to identify yourself before you take them into custody. And actually, it's bond enforcement agents, we really don't say bounty hunters.” Well, I did, but Dino didn't. It sounded much cooler to me, and everyone knew what you meant.

“Bond enforcement, right, got it.” Fred bounded up to the house and, before I could stop him, he pounded on the door and yelled, “Bond enforcement! Come out with your wand up!”

I could hear Harmon Ladd laughing hysterically inside. I couldn't really blame him. Fred turned to me with a big grin, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“What happens next?” he asked excitedly.

“Now we put these on,” I said, slapping a Shield Hat on Fred's head, “and Ladd curses us.”

I pulled Fred to the ground just in time as a burst of red light shot through the window in an explosion of glass.

“Merlin's beard,” he said, eyes wide as saucers.

I stood up and fired a hex through the window, then ducked back down again as Fred put up a Shield Charm around us. Another burst of light went overhead, and I reached up to throw a hex through the window without aiming it.

“I think I should go home now,” Fred said, making as if to leave.

I grabbed the hem of his kilt and yanked him back down. “Don't move, you idiot, do you want to be cursed?”

“What do we do now?” he asked, looking worried. Curses were still flying over us.

“You keep that Shield Charm up, stay down, and occasionally thrown a hex through the window so Ladd stays here near the front of the house. I'm going up to the roof and then maybe I can Apparate into the house and get him from behind.”

“Rose, no, don't leave me here alone-”

I Disapparated over his protests, and reappeared up on the roof. The wood roofing tiles were half-rotted, and I had barely had time to get my footing when the roof gave way underneath me and I fell. I landed with a crash in the middle of the living room, right on top of Harmon Ladd, along with half the ceiling. There was a sharp pain in my arm, but I didn't have time to spare any attention for it. Harmon Ladd was struggling to his hands and knees under the rotted wood of what used to be his roof. Why don't felons take better care of their houses? Sheesh.

“ _Petrificus Totalus_ ,” I croaked, pointing my wand at him. Ladd went rigid and fell over. I went over and kicked his wand away, out of his reach, then went to open the front door for Fred. “That didn't work out at all the way I thought it would,” I said by way of greeting.

He came inside, staring at the wreckage in the living room. “I don't think my mum's going to let me play with you any more, Rosie,” he said in an awed voice. “Does Victoire do this sort of thing when she goes out with you?”

I shook my head. “She only does surveillance. Help me get him to the authorities.”

“Rose, your arm-” Fred's face had gone pale.

I looked down. There was a huge gash in my arm, six inches of flesh torn open, splinters and dust littering the wound. Oh holy Kneazles.

“We have to take you to St. Mungo's,” said Fred, staring at my arm.

“No, no, no!” I shrieked, backing away from him. “If I go to St. Mungo's it'll get back to my mum!”

Fred rolled his eyes. “Come on, Rose, you're being ridiculous. Someone needs to heal that, and if you think it'll be me, you've got the wrong bloody cousin.”

“Just...” Inspiration hit me. “Take me to Hugo. He can heal it.”

After the amount of drinking we all did last night, Hugo might still be in bed, but what the hell. I was NOT going to St. Mungo's so some gossipy witch could see my name on a chart and call my mother. Or worse, my dad. Hugo wouldn't tell, and he knew what he was doing, even though he was still a trainee Healer. And hung over. Hell, he'd probably managed to brew up a Hangover-Curing Potion this morning. Hugo was a responsible adult with a well-stocked potions supply cabinet. I didn't even have a bag of crisps.

“What about him?” Fred nodded his head at Ladd, who was still frozen on the floor.

“We have to take him in first, then we'll go to Hugo's.” My arm was bleeding pretty badly, but I didn't want to bring Ladd to Hugo's first, and I really wasn't going to leave him here now I'd gone through all this to catch him.

“All right.” Fred aimed his wand at Ladd. “ _Incarcerous_.”

We took the now heavily-bound Harmon Ladd and held him between us as we Apparated to the Ministry lobby.

We only had to wait about ten minutes at the desk before Jack Upchurch appeared. He let out a low whistle when he saw my arm.

“Did our lad here do that?” he asked, signing the body receipt quickly.

“No, it happened when I fell through the roof.”

Jack laughed. “Only you, Rose. Better go get that looked at, it doesn't look too good.”

I took the receipt for Harmon Ladd and we transferred custody. I was glad to be shot of him. Better Jack than me. Fred and I Apparated directly into Hugo's living room. Rude, yes, but hey, he's my little brother, and I needed his help.

Hugo was eating when we appeared, and he paused with the fork halfway to his mouth. A blob of tuna fell from the fork as he stared at us.

“Rose needs some help,” Fred said.

Hugo suddenly dropped his fork with a clatter and dashed over to the kitchen counter where he'd left his wand. I sat down heavily in a chair and looked at my arm. The bleeding had slowed to an ooze, but it was pretty fast as oozes went. I moved it for a look behind and the blood came faster again.

“Hugo?” I said a little faintly.

He had cleaned his hands quickly and started examining the wound, poking at it a bit with his fingertips. “We can fix this,” he said steadily. “It's going to be okay.”

His voice was strangely soothing when he said that, and I let him clean the wound and begin healing it. I looked away, and Fred gave my other hand a comforting pat. It didn't take long, and soon the skin was pink and new again.

“What the hell happened, Rose?” Hugo asked as he siphoned the blood off his fingers with his wand.

“She fell through a roof while some crazy dude attacked us,” Fred said, not helpfully I thought.

“Do not tell anyone else about that,” I said threateningly to Fred. “You either,” I added to my brother.

Hugo frowned at me but he didn't look surprised. “Whatever. You really ought to take a Blood-Replenishing Potion, but I don't have one here and I doubt you'll go to St. Mungo's for one-”

“Got that right.”

“-so you'll just need to eat a lot of iron-rich food tonight to help your body produce the blood on its own,” Hugo finished without acknowledging my interruption.

“Okay. Iron-rich. Gotcha. Do _not_ tell Mum about this,” I said. “Or Scorpius.”

Hugo didn't look like he was happy about any of it. “All right, all right, I heard you the first time.”

“Okay then.” I looked down at my ripped and bloody sleeve, and the tears and dirt all over the freshly-washed shirt I'd put on that morning. “Um, can I borrow a t-shirt from you?”

I went home wearing a Chudley Cannons t-shirt that made me look even paler than I normally did. This was probably loss of blood more than the screaming orange colour. Scorpius wasn't home yet when I got home, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I got in the shower and shampooed the bits of rotted roofing tiles out of my hair.

I was rinsing off when I heard Scorpius's voice. “Rose?” He poked his head in around the shower curtain.

“How was your day?” I asked.

“Boring to a degree I never knew existed. But it's looking up now,” he added, eyeing me.

I shut the water off. “No time for that now, it's Aunt Ginny's birthday dinner at the Burrow tonight.”

His eyes widened. “Oh crap, I forgot all about that.”

We got dressed in record time and Apparated to the Burrow only ten minutes late. Gran was in the kitchen, with Aunt Angelina helping her with the food, and I gave her a brief hug and waved hello to my aunt as we passed.

Aunt Ginny was in the parlour with what I would always think of as 'the adults', despite the fact that my cousins and brother and I were all adults now as well. Uncle Harry had his arm around her shoulders, relaxed against the couch cushions, and they were both laughing at something my dad was saying. He was sitting on a chair next to the couch with Mum perched on the arm, her hand on Dad's shoulder. She was laughing too, but there was a tightness around her eyes and a tension in the way she held her hand on Dad. Venatici must've been in the paper again. Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur were in there as well, and Uncle George. I didn't see Uncle Percy anywhere. Bit of luck there. Granddad was in a chair by the fire. He'd evidently nodded off, despite the noise in the house.

I went over like a dutiful niece and gave Aunt Ginny a quick kiss on the cheek and wished her a happy birthday.

“Thank you, Rose,” she said, smiling at me.

“Happy birthday, Mrs. Potter,” Scorpius added.

“Thank you,” she said again, and the smile she gave him was only a bit less warm than the smile I'd gotten. Scorpius had been around the family quite a lot over the past couple of years, especially since we'd moved in together, but from my parents and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, there was always a bit of reservation in them when they looked at him. They were friendly enough with him, the same as with any of the girls Hugo had brought home, and more so than with some of James's girlfriends, but I knew it was Scorpius's dad's fault. He'd been a right little bastard to them at school, apparently, and I didn't think my parents or Uncle Harry were ever going to forget that.

Scorpius and I made our escape as Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey came in, and headed for the living room, where Victoire and Teddy were sitting on the couch. I could hear loud banging coming from upstairs, so I knew they'd brought their kids. I tried to be happy about that. Yay, little Lupins. Ahem.

James was chatting near a bookcase with my cousins Fred and Louis, and I went over to punch him in the arm.

“I should hex you for what you did at the pub last night, you jerk,” I hissed.

He put on a look of wounded innocence. “You'd hex me at my mummy's birthday party?”

“If I told your mum what you did, she'd probably hex you herself.”

James gave this some consideration. “She probably would,” he admitted.

“What did you do, James?” Louis asked.

He grinned and started telling the story as if he were quite proud of himself, so I left them there. Scorpius stayed by the bookcase, listening to James with a rueful grin. I went over to sit next to Victoire.

“All right there, Rose?” she said, smiling at me.

“Hi Victoire. Hi Teddy,” I added, leaning forward a bit to smile to him.

He gave me a friendly wave, looking rather tired.

“Long day with the kids?” I asked.

“Johnny's decided he's a manticore,” Victoire said brightly. Teddy's eye twitched a little. I decided I didn't want to know details.

“Sounds lovely.”

“Any luck with that man you were looking for, what was his name?” asked Victoire.

“Butrus Knapper. I think I might have a new lead. But I caught another skip this afternoon.” I hadn't had a chance to go by the office and cash in my body receipt, thanks to my little incident with Harmon Ladd's roof. I'd have to go in first thing in the morning. It wasn't much, but it would at least buy us some food.

“Good for you, dear.” There was a particularly huge crash from upstairs followed by a high-pitched scream, and Victoire gave her husband's knee a pat. “Would you go check on the boys, please?”

Teddy hauled himself off the couch and went upstairs, his footsteps thudding. I could remember ominous footsteps like that growing up. Hearing Dad coming up the stairs was usually enough to break up whatever fight Hugo and I had been involved in. I wasn't sure it worked as well on the mini-Lupins, from the sound of things.

“Aren't you worried they're injured?” I asked.

“That was a frustrated shriek, not an injured shriek,” said Victoire.

I wasn't sure how she could tell. Practice, I suppose. Before we could chat any further, Aunt Angelina's magically amplified voice called everyone to dinner.

The rest of the family seemed to appear out of the woodwork as we seated ourselves around the long tables in the backyard. Granddad got the head of the table, of course. Apparently someone had woken him up. Hugo and I flanked Scorpius, as we often did. A nice buffer for the poor Malfoy amongst the Weasleys. His blonde hair stood out even more than my aunt Fleur's did, somehow.

“Weren't you just eating not an hour ago?” I whispered to Hugo as we sat down at the table.

“And?”

“Nevermind.” I sometimes wondered if my brother really did have a hollow leg, with the amount he ate.

Dinner at the Burrow was always very noisy when the entire family was there. Small pockets of conversation threaded through the large table, as everyone chatted with their neighbours. I listened to Hugo and Scorpius discussing the upcoming Quidditch season with Roxanne and Uncle George for a while. Mum turned to me after twenty minutes of gardening talk with Aunt Audrey, and started in on her usual nagging about getting a proper job.

“I worry about you, it's such an insecure life,” she said, not for the first time.

“We're doing just fine,” I told her with finality. “We've got more steady income now, anyway.”

“Did you quit Agnelli's?” she asked hopefully.

“No, I didn't. Scorpius got a job at the Ministry,” I said, apparently a little too loudly.

The table fell silent. Everyone was staring at me and Scorpius. Dad's eyes were popping. I wondered what he was going to call Scorpius now that he was no longer technically a layabout.

“Where?” Mum managed to ask.

“Junior clerk in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office,” Scorpius said.

More silence, and then-

A cackling noise came from the other end of the long table. I leaned forward to see around my cousin Roxanne. Granddad was laughing so hard he started coughing.

“Do you hear that whirring noise, Molly?” he managed to say to Gran between gasping breaths. “That's Lucius Malfoy spinning in his grave!”

She thumped him on the back. To help the coughing, probably. Gran would never thump her husband out of annoyance. Uncle Percy didn't look too sure about that, and was frowning at his mother.

“Well,” Mum said, with a glance down at Granddad. She still looked rather stunned. “That's lovely. Well done, Scorpius.”

Dad grunted, and conversation around the table resumed. Scorpius gave me a look, and I tried my winsome smile. It seemed to work on him, at least, because he rolled his eyes and went back to talking Quidditch with my family.


	6. You Can't Bring a Baby on a Stake-out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I sat at the kitchen table and paged through the latest issue of _Witch Weekly_ while Victoire fried a couple of eggs. She added a few sausages to the pan, and the sizzling made my stomach rumble. I needed a housewife. Well, what I really needed was to find Knapper so Scorpius could go back to being the housewife again. I decided not to call it that to him. Men can be so touchy.

Lydia was waiting for me late the next morning when I rolled in to Agnelli's, her head surrounded by the usual cloud of blue bubbles.

“Any new skips?” I asked in a whisper as she cashed out my body receipt for Harmon Ladd. I could hear Angelo in his office and didn't particularly want him to come out and yell at me, _again_ , about Knapper.

“No, sorry.”

Man, pick it up, felons, a girl needs to eat here. I suppose I wasn't so dependent on the capriciousness of petty criminals now that Scorpius had a real job, but he hadn't actually been paid yet, so I was still feeling the pinch of urgency to catch the next skip.

Here's the thing. Normally, people resurface eventually in their familiar haunts. Being on the run is tough, and eventually most people slip up. They come back to what's familiar when they think the stink has died down and the coast is clear. And sometimes you get the ones who are so confident in their own sense of rightness that they never bother to hide. Those are my favourites. Their egos trip them up and they're often an easy collar.

But then there were the ones who vanished, like they'd been wiped from the planet. The smartest of the bunch wiped the memories of everyone who knew them, gave themselves a new appearance, and went to an entirely new place. That sort of criminal has usually committed a crime so heinous that I wouldn't touch them with a ten-foot wand, and Dino Agnelli has to track them down, though occasionally one turned up out of the blue.

One skip had gone underground for two years, given himself an entirely new identity and everything. It was as if he'd never even existed. I'd been starting to think maybe we'd all hallucinated the entire thing when he turned up one night standing next to Angelo at a cockatrice fight in Wales. Angelo had a picture above his desk of himself with the skip tied up at his feet and the victorious cockatrice in the background. Naturally, he'd held onto the guy until the fight was over before taking him in to Magical Law Enforcement. I'm pretty sure he won fifty Galleons on the cockatrice, too.

I escaped before Angelo found out I was there, and took my twenty Galleons from Harmon Ladd's capture straight to the grocery store. I wish I could say I took it straight to the bank, but actually Scorpius and I had had so little money for the past year that neither of us actually had a bank vault. We spent the money almost before we got it.

I spent the afternoon playing housewife. I'm not very good at it, true, but I had a vague feeling that I should contribute to the cleaning and cooking and whatnot now that Scorpius was working a nine to five. Besides, I couldn't really do anything until evening anyway. There wasn't much point going to a pub in the afternoon. Nobody would be there. Better to wait until after dark. I made my way through our small flat, trying to remember the household spells I used to know before I moved in with Scorpius and he started doing everything for me.

Once the bathroom had been haphazardly cleaned, I took a short break to catch up on my reading. When I woke up, it was to the sound of the locks turning on the door. Crap, was it that time already? I jumped off the couch and started pretending I'd been dusting all along.

Scorpius rolled his eyes at me as he came in. “Don't bother, Rose, I could hear you snoring from the hall. How was your day?”

“I cleaned. It was awful. But I bought food with Ladd's bounty.”

“How very domestic of you. Ah, butterbeer.” Scorpius cracked open a bottle and plopped down on the couch next to me, kicking off his shoes and slouching heavily. “I hate paperwork with the fire of a thousand dragons. I don't think I'm cut out for this working-every-day stuff.”

“We're a pair, aren't we?” I said affectionately.

He closed his eyes and put his head on the back of the couch, and I snuggled up against him.

“Did I mention I agreed we'd have dinner with my parents tonight?” he asked, eyes still closed.

I managed to hold in the groan. I really didn't like having dinner with the Malfoys. Just walking around Malfoy Manor made me feel rather uncomfortable. And peacocks make me sneeze.

“I tried to tell them we were busy, or out of the country, or possibly dead,” Scorpius went on, “but my father rightly pointed out that we haven't seen them in almost a month.”

What a nice month it had been, too. A thought occurred to me. “He didn't see you at the Ministry, did he?”

“Thank God, no. I can only imagine the sort of fit my father would throw if he found out I was working there when I ought to be playing Lord of the Manor with him. No, I had an owl from him this morning before I left.”

I thought about what Lydia had said about the Malfoys and decided to run it past Scorpius first. “You know Lydia Agnelli, right?”

Scorpius looked at me askance. It must have seemed quite the non-sequitur to him, but hell, he ought to be used to those from me by now. “Yes?”

“She suggested that maybe I should ask your parents if they know anything about Knapper. You know, cause of your granddad...”

He looked thoughtful. “Yes, but Grandfather's gone, and I don't know how much of his business my father was actually aware of. I know he was a Death Eater too, but only very briefly. He hasn't been involved in anything shady since the war. That I'm aware of,” he added fairly. “I doubt he knows anything, Rose. That was all a long time ago.”

“You're probably right.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I don't know what Scorpius was thinking about, but I was thinking how strange our relationship must seem to the war generations. His aunt had tortured my mother, and later my grandmother killed that aunt. And yet here Scorpius and I sat, curled up together, as if none of that had happened. Life is weird. I had grown up around the great heroes of the war while he had grown up with the great villains, but I think it was easier for our generation to see the individuals rather than the family. And I think it helps that my uncle testified at the trials, and ensured that Draco Malfoy didn't do time in Azkaban. Otherwise we probably wouldn't be sitting here together. I'd send Uncle Harry a card, but it would probably just give him indigestion to think that it was his fault his niece was living with a Malfoy.

I decided I'd had enough of that train of thought and asked, “What time should we leave, then?”

“We've over an hour still,” Scorpius said with a glance at his watch. He gave me a long kiss. “Want to go to bed? I could use a pick-me-up before we go see my parents.”

That sounded a good idea to me too. By the time we had gotten showered and dressed again, we were running a bit late.

“I ought to know better than to trust your five more minutes,” Scorpius grumbled as we walked up the steps to Malfoy Manor.

I shushed him and rang the bell. A house-elf answered, and I could hear my mother's voice shrieking in my head, but I let it show us to the drawing room, since that was protocol at the Malfoys'. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were seated in ornately carved and uncomfortably upholstered chairs, and Scorpius and I took the equally uncomfortable and expensive divan.

“Good evening, Scorpius,” Mrs. Malfoy said, and turned a chilly smile on me. “Good evening, Miss Weasley.”

Mr. Malfoy inclined his head at us. There was a drink in his hand, the amber liquid swirling as he tilted the glass back and forth.

I knew Mr. Malfoy didn't care for me. He'd only been rude to me once, the first time I'd been introduced to him, and I think Scorpius must have said something, because he'd been polite ever since, though quite frosty. Mrs. Malfoy seemed to like me just a bit more, though I rather thought she saw me only as a brood mare for potential grandchildren, and I suppose my father's pure blood made up for my mother's lack thereof in Mrs. Malfoy's eyes, though she'd rather Scorpius made a lovely pureblood marriage. I have to admit, sometimes the only thing that kept me smiling around Scorpius's parents was thinking about how my dad told me that Mum had once socked Mr. Malfoy in the eye. Picturing this gave me a great deal of amusement. Scorpius had even got a chuckle out of it when I'd told him the story. I think sometimes he'd like to sock his father in the eye. I honestly don't know how they managed to produce such a lovely young man. Maybe he'd been given a personality transplant on the Hogwarts Express.

“Good evening, Mother. Father,” Scorpius said in polite tones.

This was pretty much the extent of things at the Malfoys'. Rich people are so weird. At my parents' house, we just walk right in and announce ourselves, and my mum usually hugs me when she sees me. Mrs. Malfoy hadn't seen her son for a month, yet she simply sat there in her immaculate, elegantly tailored robes, and bestowed a restrained smile on him. It made me want to get up and tap-dance or something, just to see what they'd do. I repressed the urge, and the house-elf brought Scorpius a small glass of the firewhisky his father was drinking, and a small gillywater for me. I hate gillywater.

Scorpius made polite conversation with his parents, talking about nothing. I don't know how he does it. It must be something about growing up wealthy. I usually let him do all the talking when we're at his parents' house. They don't want to hear from me, anyway. I spent the time looking around surreptitiously at the paintings in the room. The Wiltshire mansion where the Malfoys live was far too grand for my taste. They had to have a house-elf to take care of it. I couldn't get my head around the idea of owning another being, so having one of them was out, but I sure as hell would never clean a house this big if I lived here. Not that I clean the flat we live in. Somehow I couldn't see Scorpius cleaning this place either. 

Scorpius's grandfather passed away years ago, and his grandmother lived in the manor with his parents, but I never saw her. Mrs. Malfoy had politely told me that her mother-in-law was too frail to join us for dinner, but Scorpius had told me it was because she couldn't stand the idea of having dinner with a Weasley. Worse, a Weasley who wasn't even pure-blood. Poo on her, I say, although it did kind of hurt. After all, she _was_ Scorpius's gran. I wanted his family to like me. It seemed unlikely to happen.

At precisely seven o'clock, we all got up and went into the dining room. We ate in silence until the house-elf had dishes of sorbet appear in front of everyone, then it began: the _hinting_ that Scorpius was leading the wrong sort of life.

“There's a charity function at the Ministry next weekend,” Mr. Malfoy began in his cold voice. “Your mother and I plan to attend.”

Scorpius murmured something non-committal that might have been “How lovely” and might have been “Bully for you”, I couldn't tell.

Mr. Malfoy was eyeing his son. “You should have more concern for your birthright. You've never shown an interest in the donations the Malfoys have always made. Wasting all your time being an unemployed layabout.”

My dad and Mr. Malfoy had something in common there. I kept my chuckles to an internal monologue, and ate my sorbet. Let Scorpius deal with his parents. He was much better at it than I was. I was picturing my mum socking Mr. Malfoy in the eye again.

“I'm a painter, Father, I'm not unemployed,” Scorpius said calmly.

“A painter. What kind of job is that for a wizard? Any Muggle can be a painter. Why do you have to be a painter?”

Maybe if he said the word a few more times, it would lose all meaning and Scorpius would magically turn into a high-powered barrister who headed charitable organizations on weekends.

Scorpius manfully ignored his father, and took a slow and deliberate bite of his sorbet. Mr. Malfoy eyed him unpleasantly. I pretended I was on the beach in Majorca and couldn't hear any of this. I suspected Mrs. Malfoy was doing the same thing.

I wondered if Scorpius was going to tell them about his Ministry job after all. It seemed unlikely to please his father, though watching Draco Malfoy hyperventilate when he heard his only child was working a lowly Ministry job in a department that worked with Muggles would probably make the evening worthwhile, at least for me.

Scorpius didn't bring up the Ministry job, and the Malfoys went back to eating in silence. It was such a weird contrast to eating with the Weasleys, where one had to shout just to be heard, that it sort of felt unreal. Maybe I was hallucinating the entire dinner, which surely meant all calories consumed tonight did not count. I brightened, and had another glass of wine.

Scorpius turned to me after we'd finished our sorbet. “Rose, didn't you say you had to work tonight?”

Had I? I did have to, but I didn't think I'd said anything to– oh, he wanted to escape. Yippee. I patted my lips theatrically with the linen napkin. “Yes, I do, actually. Thank you for a lovely dinner, Mrs. Malfoy. It was wonderful to see you both.”

Neither of us spoke until we'd made good our escape from Malfoy Manor. The evening seemed even more surreal when we were back in our comfortable little run-down flat. Once we'd plopped down on the couch, Scorpius threw an arm around me.

“Is it wrong of me to prefer your family?”

“They are a friendlier lot,” I agreed. “You didn't tell your parents about your job.”

“Seemed unlikely to go over well. Thought it was best to keep it to myself.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Besides, the job is only temporary, right? Until you catch Knapper.”

“Yes, speaking of that... I actually do have to work tonight.”

He didn't look surprised. “Where are you off to?”

“A pub over in West London. There was a note mentioning it in Knapper's house, I thought I'd check it out.”

“Want me to come along?”

Scorpius on a job was even more of a liability than my cousin Fred. I love the man, but I didn't want him coming along. “No, I'll be fine.”

“Let me know if you need me.” He yawned. “I'm going to bed. I've another long day of boredom to look forward to tomorrow. Do you know, the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts bunch hasn't filed anything in fifteen years?”

I wasn't sure what sort of pub this was. Fred's only hint had been 'seedy', so I wore a set of slightly ratty robes that needed patching at the hem, and hoped I'd fit in. I used a colour-switching spell to darken my hair for the night as an extra precaution. Sometimes not being obviously a Weasley pays off.

The Merman's Tail was even worse than I'd been expecting. It had probably not been cleaned since it had opened, and it was filled with the sort of witches and warlocks that had to be tracked down by real bounty hunters like Dino Agnelli. I had a distinct feeling I was out of my depth here, but I ponied up to the bar anyway and ordered a firewhisky. I wasn't even sure what I hoped to find here, but I didn't think asking around about Knapper was a good idea, so I kept my mouth shut and my head down and let the conversations going on around me filter through my head.

No one really caught my attention, although I did enjoy listening to a very long and involved conversation between two witches about their plan to go to America and look for gold and start a reserve for battered hags. They ought to have their own show on the Wizarding Wireless Network, honestly. A few men tried to come over and sit next to me, but I waved them away.

I had almost given up the night as a bad job when, just at closing time, I heard what sounded like the name _Pulford_ coming from a few people down. I strained to hear who had said it, and then the same voice wished the bartender a good night.

“Night, Hiram,” the bartender said, and I looked up to see a man in his late thirties or early forties, with thinning blonde hair and a friendly smile, red-nosed from drink. He reminded me a bit of my uncle Charlie. They had that same sort of older-bachelor air about them.

I left my third whiskey half-finished at the bar and followed the man out of the pub, Disillusioning myself as I left. I wasn't as good at it as Victoire, but it ought to be good enough for a dark night like this.

He walked a bit unsteadily a few blocks down, clearly too drunk to Apparate home, turning three times into narrower and narrower alleys, and my shoulderblades were itching by the time he finally stopped at a ratty old door. I watched him go in and saw a sliver of light from a window at what must be a basement flat.

I wrote the street name down on my hand and Disapparated. Scorpius was sound asleep when I finally crawled into bed, wondering if I'd really heard the man say _Pulford_.

*

I woke late. All right, I almost always get up around eleven in the morning, so technically I woke at the usual time. Occasionally I get up earlier if it seems likely that I have to pick someone up in the morning, but honestly, almost all my work gets done in the afternoon and evening. Why get up early?

I went to the kitchen and made toast, eyeing the eggs and wondering if I could fry a few without burning down the flat. It was nice that Scorpius had a job so we wouldn't wind up living in a cardboard box and all, but I really missed him being home and doing the cooking. I stood at the kitchen counter and ate over the sink so I wouldn't have to wash a plate, and thought about the bloke in the pub.

Hiram, the bartender had called him, and I knew the street he lived on. I wondered if Lydia could find out who he was based on that. I was betting she could, so after I finished my toast, looked longingly at the eggs again, and got dressed, I headed to Knockturn Alley.

Lydia wasn't at her desk when I got there, and I stood for a moment debating whether to knock on Angelo's door and check for her in there. I really didn't want to talk to Angelo and have to listen to him barking at me about Knapper. I poked around Lydia's desk for a moment and then realized the time. She was probably at lunch.

Sometimes I forget about normal people hours. I sleep late, stay up late, and eat at strange times, so I often forget that Lydia takes her lunch around midday. I'd only just eaten breakfast.

I set off for the Leaky Cauldron to look for her, and sure enough, she was at the bar with a plate of fish and chips in front of her. She waved to me, her mouth full, and I slid onto a barstool next to her.

“Morning,” I said, snatching a chip off her plate.

“It's not morning, Rose, it's afternoon,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. “Any luck with Knapper yet? Angelo's going spare.”

“I think I found something, but I need you to check on someone for me.”

“Sure. Give me a few hours and I'll see what I can find out about him.”

I wrote down the street and name I'd learned, and then left Lydia to her lunch. I decided I might as well take a look around in this Hiram bloke's neighbourhood, so I Apparated back to the Merman's Tail and retraced my steps. 

Once I reached his flat, I did a loop around the surrounding area. It didn't look any better by daylight. Run-down tenements that were held up mostly by magic loomed over the narrow cobbled streets. This was clearly a wizarding slum, and I wondered if Muggles could even see it.

The street Hiram lived on had bits of rotting newspaper strewn about, and a pile of kitchen refuse piled next to a low stoop next door to his flat. I stepped over a decaying celery stalk and looked up at the clotheslines overhead that stretched from one building to the next, making the alley claustrophobic. It seemed as if the buildings were leaning too far, caving in.

There was nowhere for decent surveillance. I didn't think it was possible to have a less-visible location and yet have nowhere for a person to hide. The only obvious solution was to get Victoire to Disillusion me, but she was sure to want to come along. Frankly, I wanted her to. I hate doing surveillance alone.

I Apparated to the Lupins' and barged right in without knocking. Teddy wasn't home, and Victoire never cared if I just came in. That's what family was for, right?

She was in the backyard, watching her two little boys flying about on toy brooms. They had a toy Quaffle and were tossing it at each other. Neither one of them could catch it, but this didn't seem to bother them. Remus was five and Johnny was almost three, and the baby, Dora, was only a couple of months old. Victoire said they weren't done yet, that Teddy wanted a few more kids. Dad said they were trying to give Gran and Gramps a run for their money.

“Oh hello Rose,” Victoire said, giving me a welcoming smile as I sat next to her in a lawn chair.

“Hi Victoire.” I noticed she had a bag of pretzels at her feet and grabbed a handful. We sat in silence for a while, watching the boys on their brooms. They were shrieking with laughter as they flew, though the brooms couldn't go very fast and only rose about a foot or two off the ground.

“Does Johnny still think he's a manticore?” I asked, popping a pretzel into my mouth.

“Yes, but not when he's on a broom. Teddy told him that manticores can't ride brooms, so he's a little boy right now.”

“That's nice.” I grabbed a few more pretzels.

“Are you hungry?” Victoire asked, watching me. “I can make you a sandwich.”

“Could you fry up some eggs for me?” I asked hopefully.

Victoire laughed, and got up. I followed her into the house, glancing over my shoulder at the two boys.

“Are they all right alone?”

“Oh, yes,” she said vaguely. “The backyard is enchanted so it's basically a padded cell, and I can see them out the window.”

I sat at the kitchen table and paged through the latest issue of _Witch Weekly_ while Victoire fried a couple of eggs. She added a few sausages to the pan, and the sizzling made my stomach rumble. I needed a housewife. Well, what I really needed was to find Knapper so Scorpius could go back to being the housewife again. I decided not to call it that to him. Men can be so touchy.

“What have you been up to?” Victoire asked as she set the plate in front of me.

“This and that,” I said, distracted by the food. I took a bite of eggs and added, “I think I have another lead in the Knapper case.”

“Oh?”

“I have to check it out some more, see if it pans out. Might be nothing.” Yum, sausages. Maybe I should learn how to cook.

Victoire perked up a bit. “Surveillance? Do you need some company? Teddy gets home in about an hour, I can go with you after that.”

“That'd be great.” 

I killed some time by throwing the Quaffle around with Remus and Johnny while Victoire did some chores. Remus couldn't throw very well, but he was a better catch than Johnny, who had a hell of an arm but no aim whatsoever. Maybe he'd grow into that. I could see Johnny as a Beater and Remus as a Chaser, and wondered if they'd play on their house teams. Teddy hadn't played Quidditch, but my cousins James and Lily both had, along with Fred and Molly. She'd been a spanking good Keeper. My dad had liked to give her tips on that, but I don't think she'd listened.

Teddy finally came home, and he grinned when he saw me in the backyard with the boys.

“Hi Rose,” he said, leaning against the door frame. “Come to play some Quidditch?”

Before I could say anything, Victoire bustled up to him, a basket of laundry in her arms. “Oh there you are, dear. I'm going out with Rose, I need you to stay with the children.”

Teddy gave me a suspicious look, and put his arm around his wife. I let them have a few moments, and went back to the boys.

Victoire came back twenty minutes later, looking a bit flushed and happy. “Come on, let's go,” she said.

I rolled my eyes at her and came inside. Teddy went past me to go outside to his sons, and I could see his hair was mussed. I did not want to know if they'd been doing what I thought they'd been doing, so I didn't say anything.

Victoire was in the living room, stuffing nappies into a bag.

“What are you doing?” I asked, nonplussed.

“I'm going to bring Dora.”

“You can't bring a baby along,” I said, completely horrified. What was she thinking?

“It'll be fine,” Victoire said in a businesslike tone. “I'll put her in a sling and carry her. She likes to be close to her mummy.”

“You're mental,” I said, shaking my head. I don't know where she gets it from, the rest of us Weasleys are totally sane. Really.

Johnny popped up next to the door as we were leaving, his bright red hair a little sweaty from playing outside. All the Lupin kids had Weasley-red hair, even though they were only a quarter Weasley. I sometimes wondered how long it would take to breed the Weasley out of someone. Five generations? Ten?

“Where are you going, Mummy?” he asked, though his R's were pronounced as W's. Victoire thought it was sweet. I wondered if he did it on purpose.

Victoire immediately turned on her happy-mummy high-pitched voice. “I'm just going out with your Auntie Rose for a little while, my precious. You be good for Daddy, now, all right?”

Johnny's little face screwed up in anger. “I want to come too!”

“This is just for grown-ups, my duck. You may come next time.”

“I want to come now!” Johnny yelled, stomping his little foot. I backed away from what was clearly an unexploded bomb of a child.

“Bugger off, my love,” said Victoire, still in the happy-mummy voice.

Johnny scowled at her again and buggered off.

Victoire shut the door behind us and smiled brightly at me. “Ah, motherhood,” she said.

Motherhood, indeed.

Since we had the baby along, we couldn't Apparate, so we took the two somewhat ageing Cleansweeps that Victoire and Teddy had in their broom shed and set off, baby Dora strapped securely to her mother's chest in a purple sling. We landed a few streets over from our target, and Victoire Disillusioned the three of us, though I'm not sure it was actually necessary to Disillusion the baby. She was probably inside the spell on Victoire, but whatever. We chose a rather dirty corner of the alley Hiram lived on, and settled in.

I really hate surveillance. It's the worst part of my job. I'd rather chase someone down or get hexes thrown at me. The tedium of surveillance makes me crazy, which is why I so often bring Victoire along. She, like me, often has nothing better to do, and is perfectly willing to drop her kids at her mother's house and come out with me. My other cousins almost all have proper jobs, so I couldn't take any of them even if I wanted to. Victoire was also quite a capable witch, possibly more capable than I am. Certainly more level-headed. I had never seen her fight, but something told me she wouldn't lose her head and be a liability.

We cast _Muffliato_ around us so we could have a chat. This is a spell my father taught me, saying it would be useful, although my mother got a pinched expression when he mentioned it. It isn't a Ministry-approved spell, which is probably why she doesn't like it, although Dad says she used it during the war.

After an hour of chatting and looking at nothing, Dora woke up and started fussing. Victoire rearranged her top and I looked away while she nursed her baby. I don't mind women doing that, but this was my cousin, I didn't really want to see quite so much of her.

I couldn't see much through the little window to the basement flat, though a light was shining in whatever room it looked into. I hadn't seen any movement, but he must be in there or there wouldn't be a light. I was rather pleased that he didn't have a curtain on his window like Pulford did. A small slice of his flat was visible, a small battered table and a single chair next to what looked like some kind of a little piano.

When Victoire finished, she held out the baby to me. “Here, hold her for a minute while I get straightened, would you?”

I took Dora gingerly, holding her cradled in my arms. I'm not very comfortable with babies. The idea of having one had never particularly appealed to me, especially after seeing how miserable Dominique was during her pregnancy. But I looked down at the tiny sleeping face, her little lips wiggling a bit, and suddenly I sort of wanted one. What the hell would I do with a baby? I can't even fry eggs.

Victoire readjusted her top and gave me a little smile. “Have you and Scorpius thought about having kids yet?”

“We've never talked about it,” I said, still staring down at Dora. “I can't even imagine us having one.”

“Yes you can,” Victoire said matter-of-factly.

I chuckled and passed the baby back to her. “All right, it would be fun to see a red-haired Malfoy, wouldn't it? But I'm not going to have one any time soon. Besides, we're not even married. Dad would kill me if I got pregnant before I was married.”

Victoire rolled her eyes as she settled Dora back into the sling. “I think he would kill you if you married a Malfoy anyway.”

“Scorpius's dad wouldn't be too happy with him for marrying a Weasley,” I admitted, “but I think both of them are getting used to the idea the longer we live together.”

There was a sudden movement in the window, and we both fell silent. Someone walked past the window, and I caught a flash of sandy hair.

“Is that him?” Victoire whispered.

I nodded, and we watched through the window as he went past twice more, then sat down.

“That's a harmonichord,” Victoire said, staring through the window. “I've never seen one in person.”

“What the hell is a harmonichord?”

“Remember when Louis dated that Lithuanian witch, the musician?”

I had tried to repress that period. She was one of Louis' more obnoxious girlfriends, though she'd played beautiful music. Fortunately, after a couple of months she'd run off with a travelling symphony orchestra and left Louis for a flautist. Louis had been quite cut up about it, but the rest of us had been pleased to see the back of her.

“Well, she used to lecture us about pianos and the like. She played them all, you know,” Victoire added, rolling her eyes. “A harmonichord is sort of like a piano crossed with a violin. They're quite unusual, apparently.”

“Hm.”

We watched Hiram playing for a while, though we couldn't hear anything. His flat must be sound-proofed. I'm sure his neighbours were grateful. After a while, he got up and went out of sight, into another part of the flat that we couldn't see, and the light went out.

I got a sudden creepy feeling, much like I'd had when we'd sat outside Balthazar Pulford's house, but no curses came out the window. I was about to tell Victoire we ought to go when she glanced at her watch and said, “I'd better get home, Rose. The children probably have Teddy hogtied in the garden shed by now.”

I flew back to the Lupins' with her and deposited the Cleansweep in the broom shed, then Apparated back to Knockturn Alley once Victoire was safely in the house. I went back to Agnelli's and caught Lydia at her desk as she was packing up to go home.

“There you are,” she said. “I found out about your man Hiram.”

I smiled at her gratefully. “You're the best, Lydia.”

“His name is Hiram Worthing. He went to school with Balthazar Pulford apparently, they both left Hogwarts the same year. Neither of them went past O.W.L. level. Hiram was married, wife ran off and left him about two years later, no children, no siblings, parents both dead now. He worked low-level clerk jobs for a while, and I can't find any record of current employment.” Lydia handed me a sheet of parchment covered with her neat handwriting. “Here's the notes on everything I found out. I looked into Pulford a bit more as well. Nothing on current employment for him, either.”

“Maybe they're artists like Scorpius,” I said lightly, folding the paper and tucking it into my shoulder bag.

“I doubt it,” Lydia said. “Everyone I spoke with said Hiram was a nice man, but kept to himself mostly. Quiet and polite. He seems very boring, honestly. You think he has something to do with Knapper?”

“Well, he's friends with Knapper's half-brother, maybe he knows something about him.” I didn't mention that seeing Worthing moving about inside his flat had given me the same creepy feeling that Pulford had given me. I decided I didn't want to bring Victoire along any more on this case. The whole thing was giving me a bad feeling.


	7. Temporarily Deaf and Blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I felt rude and awkward, and my words came out in a rush. “I work for Angelo Agnelli Magical Bonds, and I'm trying to find Butrus Knapper. I've been looking for anyone with even the slightest connection to him, and your name turned up as a school chum of his half-brother.” Did I just say _chum_? Oh my God, I'm skipping my mother and becoming my grandmother.

I don't remember there ever being a time when I thought my mum was cool. Oh, my father's cool, right enough, he catches bad guys after all, but Mum, well... She does her best, you know, but she's the sort of high-powered and politically placed barrister that Mr. Malfoy wishes Scorpius was. And that's just not cool. Mildly interesting, yes, but just not cool. Lydia Agnelli's mum was a trapeze artist with a wizarding circus before Lydia was born. Now _that's_ cool.

Mum's not-coolness was in full force today. She bustled into my flat with a small, flattish box about the size of a ream of paper. I eyed it warily. When my mother brings you a small box, you should not trust that what comes out of it will be small as well. She had that look in her eye, too, the one that said she was on about something and would not be diverted from it by any means short of nuclear catastrophe.

She set the box down on the counter, making a bang that was far too loud for such a small box, and gave me a stern look. “I need the contact information for Butrus Knapper's wife.”

Oh. _That's_ what she's on about. Angelo ought to know better than to tangle with my mother.

I gave my mother the name and address for Lomatia Knapper, hoping she'd take her scary box and go away again, but instead she began pulling papers out of the box. An ungodly amount of papers.

“I'm going to get rid of that custodian law,” Mum said determinedly, stacking papers all over my kitchen counter. “If I can get it declared against human rights – and it is – then it will free Mrs. Knapper and all the other women-”

“And men,” I put in. There were plenty of men who were dumb enough to sign a custodian bond as well.

“Yes, of course, everyone who's been affected by it will be released from their contract.”

Uh-oh. That didn't sound good. “Er, Mum-”

“I can't believe something like that has stayed on the lawbooks as long as it has,” Mum went on, not listening to me. “I'm going to have Mrs. Knapper representing a class-action suit, arguing that it violates her civil-”

“ _Mum_.”

“What is it, dear?” Mum asked absently. She was scribbling furiously on a yellow legal pad.

“If you repeal the custodian bond law and let everyone out of their contracts, what happens to the felons they were custodian for? Is their bond still active?” I couldn't see how this would be as simple as she thought it would be. Getting the law stopped for future bonds, yes, but I doubted the bonds offices would fancy the idea of having all those criminals with unsecured bonds. Angelo would be down at the Ministry before you could blink, screaming about being out that kind of money. The other bondsmen in town would band together and picket my mother's office. Again.

Mum waved her quill at me dismissively. “I'm sure we'll be able to work that out.” She had never been very sympathetic to the bondsmen, though I had explained many times that they performed a necessary function in the judicial system, especially the already overworked Magical police. I don't think she quite believed it. She had once called Angelo an exploiter of the underprivileged, so I'm pretty sure she wasn't concerned with him having to cough up the Galleons on anyone with a custodian bond.

Mum found whatever it was she'd been looking for amongst the papers in the box, and started repacking them. “I've got to run. I need to speak with a few members of the Wizengamot about this, I want it reviewed by week's end, and then I'm meeting your father for lunch. Lots to do. See you later, my love.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek and tucked the box under her arms, and before I could say anything else, she was out the door.

I should tell Angelo about her plan. A good employee would give her boss fair warning, right? But then, this was my mother, and obviously my first loyalty was to the family. I should stay as far away from this as I possibly could. Yes, that sounded better. Angelo would find out soon enough what Mum was up to, anyway.

I made myself a cup of tea and started doodling on a napkin, gathering my thoughts. I had very little on the Knapper case, honestly. He had no friends, even his wife didn't want him back. His freaky half-brother claimed not to know where he was, but I didn't trust him. A random bloke in the pub Knapper might have disappeared from knew the freaky half-brother but had no connection to Knapper. None of them had jobs or significant others. Honestly, they all seemed rather a bunch of losers. Something seemed off to me, though. I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

If the freaky half-brother and the random bloke in the pub had a reason to cover Knapper's disappearance after a relatively minor Dark object trafficking charge, I didn't know what it might be. They didn't seem like the kind of family who loved their relative so much they couldn't stand for him to go to the clink. Lenny Graves seemed to think there was more going on here. Maybe there was.

And it seemed it was up to me to find out.

I tried to come up with a plan of attack, but couldn't think of anything logical, so I decided to just go poke around wherever I got a bad feeling and hope something turned up. It had worked for me in the past, so I may as well go with my winning strategy, lame as it may be.

I figured I'd start with Hiram Worthing, since he was less scary than Pulford. I finished my tea and set off for the day.

Worthing's flat was empty from what I could see, trying to surreptitiously look through his window. It was badly located for nosy bounty hunters to poke around. Honestly, some architects just don't think.

One of the neighbours was peering out their window. I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. I waved cheerfully and the drapes snapped shut. Great. Maybe Worthing didn't talk to his neighbours. Scorpius and I avoided ours like the plague.

I wondered where he went during the day if he wasn't at home. He didn't have a job. Maybe he was getting his nails done.

I stared at the front door for a while. There was a small plaque that said in gold lettering, _No Solicitors_. I concentrated on the sign, thinking hard. He was friends with Pulford. He might know something. But my stomach was all knotted up at the thought of knocking on the door. _Very bad things_.

Hell with it. I knocked twice on the door and took a step back. My non-threatening stance. Not that I looked threatening, especially in this pink unicorn t-shirt. I really need to throw this thing out. Note to self: Buy intimidating wardrobe, primary fabric leather.

I stood at the door, my heart pounding in my throat. The seconds ticked by, and I started feeling stupid. There's only so long you can stay in a state of nervous terror, I suppose.

Why didn't he have windows in his front door? Does no one think of the poor lowly bounty hunter's needs when they design houses and flats? I stood on tiptoe and tried to see through the windows. The flat was dark and empty. Dammit.

I sighed and turned away, and the door suddenly popped open behind me.

I let out a loud shriek and skidded back a few feet. Worthing started in shock and banged his elbow into the door jamb. I think both of us nearly jumped out of our skins.

“Who are you?” Worthing asked, rubbing his elbow.

“I'm so sorry,” I gasped. “I didn't mean to frighten you-”

“It's all right.” He stopped rubbing his elbow and gave me a kind smile. He really reminded me of Uncle Charlie. I liked him immediately. Why had I been so nervous?

“I'm sorry to disturb you,” I began. The flat was still dark behind him, and he looked a bit rumpled. I must have woken him up. I felt rude and awkward, and my words came out in a rush. “I work for Angelo Agnelli Magical Bonds, and I'm trying to find Butrus Knapper. I've been looking for anyone with even the slightest connection to him, and your name turned up as a school chum of his half-brother.” Did I just say _chum_? Oh my God, I'm skipping my mother and becoming my grandmother.

Worthing looked rather impressed. “Excellent research there, young lady. Yes, I was friends with Balthazar at school, but not his brother. There's several years between them, you know. I'd already left by the time Balthazar's brother came along.”

“Are you still in contact with Balthazar?” It was sort of weird to think of this nice guy hanging out with scary, weird Balthazar Pulford. Maybe Pulford had been friendlier when he was younger. I couldn't picture Worthing setting foot in the Knapper residence either. What I could see of his apartment was scrupulously clean and neat. It was much cleaner than my flat, actually. I might've mentioned that to Scorpius if he didn't have a proper job now.

“Now and then, yes.”

“I asked him if his brother had contacted him, but...” But he was a freaky weirdo who made me want to run away and hide under my bed.

“Well, I'm sure if Balthazar said his brother hadn't contacted him, then he hasn't been in touch,” Worthing said, giving me another kindly smile. “Would you like me to let you know if I hear anything?”

“Thank you, that would be great.” I smiled back at him. I wish more people were nice to me. It was a lovely change not to have a door slammed in my face or my parentage insulted.

Worthing held out a hand. “What did you say your name was, my dear?”

“Rose Weasley,” I said, shaking his hand. His grip was firm and light, pleasant. I hate when men try to overwhelm me with a handshake. It happens a lot when you're a female bounty hunter.

“Would you care to come in for a cup of tea, Miss Weasley?” Worthing stepped back and held a hand up to his front door invitingly.

“Oh, no, thank you, I don't want to disturb you. I still have work to do today.” I had to accomplish _something_ today. I already felt like a failure for my inability to get a bead on Knapper. All I had were dead-ends.

He took my refusal graciously. “Some other time, perhaps.”

We exchanged cordial good-byes, and I went back to London and Knockturn Alley. I stood at the mouth of the alley where it feeds into Diagon Alley and contemplated whether or not going to talk to Lydia was worth the possibility of running into Angelo. On the whole, I decided I should avoid the place. I strolled down Diagon Alley, trying to regroup in my head.

The Worthing lead had been tenuous at best, but I was disappointed, I have to admit. I really thought that would pan out. But I believed him when he said he didn't know Knapper. Pulford hadn't gone well either, and I was a little nervous of going back there. I was just floating around from one half-assed lead to the next, and it was getting me nowhere.

What the hell was I going to do?

I kicked at the building next to me. This sucked royal hippogriff. I had no idea what to do next, and that was my biggest problem. I needed help. I thought I had pretty much exhausted the array of cousins, and tried to figure out who the hell I was going to ask.

Dino? Oh yeah, so he can steal my gig. No way. Lydia? I'd tried bouncing ideas off her before, and she was, shall we say, a surface that did not bounce. Scorpius? Hell to the no.

Aw, crap. I knew who I needed to go see.

*

“Hi Rosie.” Dad gave me a kiss on the forehead.

I dropped my purse on the green leather couch in Dad's office and took in the scene. There were stacks of paper everywhere, and on top of them was a half dozen cartons of Chinese food. Posters of wanted criminals were pinned to a corkboard on one wall. The shadowy photo of Venatici was in the centre. Uncle Harry was sitting in a wooden chair across from Dad's desk, and waved at me with a pair of chopsticks, his mouth full.

“Pull up a chair,” Dad said, waving to indicate his implied hospitality. “Grab some chopsticks and have lunch with your old dad.”

There wasn't another chair. Uncle Harry, still chewing, conjured one for me.

“Thanks, mate,” Dad said, settling into the somewhat beat-up leather chair behind his desk.

“Not having lunch out today, are we?” I said, picking through the cartons. Dad always eats all the egg rolls first. Damn. “Mum said she was meeting you for lunch, I wasn't sure you'd be back yet.”

“We're hiding from your mum,” Uncle Harry said, picking up a carton of noodles.

“Harry,” Dad said reprovingly.

“Don't try to pretend you're not hiding from your wife,” Uncle Harry told him with a grin.

Dad's ears reddened. He gave me a sheepish look. “You know how your mum is when she's on the warpath.”

I rolled my eyes, selected a carton of orange chicken, and leaned back. “Yeah. She came to see me earlier. That damn custodian law. Angelo's going to be pissed.”

“I might have told her that it wasn't realistic to think all the currently named custodians would simply be released from their contracts,” Dad said around a bite of sweet and sour chicken.

“You should have known better,” Uncle Harry told him smugly. “At least _I_ know better than to argue with _my_ wife.”

“Well, it _isn't_ realistic,” Dad muttered. “There won't be any replacement collateral for the bonds, so the law won't get passed as is. The bondsmen will never allow it, and well they shouldn't. She can't expect to grandfather all these people in. New custodians, yes, but not the current ones. Especially since there aren't even that many of them. The Wizengamot won't see it worth angering the bondsmen over a handful of people. They provide a service to the judicial system _and_ the MLEs, dammit. We need them, or we'd be overrun with petty criminals who can't meet their bail that we have to hold until their court dates, and that would put a strain on the holding cells and the prison.”

Uncle Harry grunted in what I presumed was agreement, or simply acknowledging that he already knew all this.

“I tried to tell Mum all that this morning,” I put in. “She didn't listen to me though.”

“You're lucky, then,” Uncle Harry said. “She nearly shouted Ron's eardrums out.”

Dad winced. “It's always the principle of the thing with her. Honestly, the woman's barking mad.”

“You've been saying that since we met her.” Uncle Harry didn't look concerned. “What can we do for you, Rose?”

“I'm having trouble finding Knapper,” I told him.

“Who?”

“Butrus Knapper,” Dad said. “He was arrested a few months ago, minor trafficking charges, skipped his court date. I have his file in my inbox.”

Uncle Harry and I both looked at Dad's desk. If there was an inbox there, it was not immediately apparent. Uncle Harry let out a little cough that might have been a laugh.

Dad rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Harry. Rosie, go over what you've got on him. Let's see if we can turn something up.”

I put my carton back on the desk and started listing everything I knew about Butrus Knapper's disappearance. “Wife, rented rowhouse in a crap neighbourhood. She hasn't seen him. She's custodian, and there seems to be no love lost, so I think she'd tell me if she knew where he was. Half-brother, not close, checked on him but he says he hasn't been in contact with Knapper for ages. I looked through Knapper's desk and found a note with the name of a pub and what I think is a date, the last day anyone saw Knapper, and when I checked out the pub I heard someone mention the brother's name. Followed that guy home-”

“ _Rosie_ ,” Dad interrupted, looking appalled. “You followed some strange bloke home from the pub, who might be involved with a criminal? Have you lost your mind?”

I decided not to mention the destruction of the Shield Hat incident outside Pulford's house. It seemed, as Scorpius phrased it, unlikely to please my father. “It was fine! It's my job, Dad. I had Lydia Agnelli look into him, got his name, and it turns out he was a school friend of the brother. I talked to him today and he was really nice. He doesn't know anything about Knapper though.”

“You're giving me grey hairs,” Dad said, putting a hand over his eyes. “Why can't you work somewhere safe?”

I rolled my eyes at him, and Uncle Harry laughed.

“Ron, calm down. Rose, is there anything else?”

I shrugged. “Not that I can find. This guy was a nobody. No regular hangouts, no friends.”

“He was a trafficker, you said? Dark objects?” Uncle Harry waited for Dad's nod, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Did you find any of his business contacts?”

“I checked Knockturn Alley, but no one would even admit to knowing who he was,” I said dejectedly, then remembered. “Well, except Lenny Graves.”

Dad shook his head. “That kid, I swear. Rosie, you bring him to me the next time you see him. He was supposed to check into a rehab facility as part of his parole, and he never did.”

I ignored this. Let Pilliwickle's bring Lenny in, he was their bounty. “Lenny said Knapper was involved in very bad things.”

Neither Dad nor Uncle Harry looked worried about this. “Dark objects are very bad things,” Dad pointed out.

“The pub sounded like a decent lead to me,” Uncle Harry said. “There must be some connection between Knapper and that pub if he wrote its name down and the date he disappeared.”

“I don't know whether he even made it to the pub,” I pointed out. “His wife saw him that morning, and then he never came home. He could have disappeared at any point during the day.”

“True. Which pub was it?”

“The Merman's Tail.”

“Didn't Louis get arrested there once?” Uncle Harry asked Dad.

“Probably. Rosie, have you tried watching the brother's house? Maybe he lied.”

Duh. Thanks for assuming I'm an idiot, Dad. “I staked out the brother and the brother's friend, but I didn't see anyone come in or out. I thought there might be someone in the brother's house, but I couldn't tell if it was Knapper.” I heaved a big sigh, feeling like a failure again. “I don't know what to do next.”

Dad frowned and looked over at Uncle Harry, who was chewing thoughtfully.

“What does your gut say?” he asked finally.

I sat in silence for a moment, mulling it over. “I like the brother for it.”

“Well then. There's your answer. I always go with my gut.”

“Your uncle's always had good instincts,” Dad said. “You have, too, Rosie. You should go with them.”

I didn't want to go back to Pulford's house. Pulford was scary, and gave me a bad feeling, which is probably why I thought he was lying to me about his brother. “I'm a little nervous about going back there on my own.”

“So take backup,” Uncle Harry said. “Everyone needs backup, kiddo. Your dad never goes in alone. Except that one time-”

“Shut up, Harry,” Dad said, his ears reddening again.

Uncle Harry grinned and took a large bite of beef and broccoli.

“Can I have a copy of your file on Knapper, Dad?” I asked hopefully.

“Absolutely not,” Dad said sternly. “That's confidential Ministry information.”

I gave him my best trustworthy, wheedling smile. “Please, Daddy?”

I swear it only works on him. No one else buys that smile, but my dad always falls for it. I keep hoping it will work on someone else, but at least it does work on him. Dad looked uncomfortable and shot a pleading glance at Uncle Harry, who snorted and then said, “Ron, I've gone temporarily deaf and blind.”

Dad grinned at him, opened a file drawer and rooted around for a minute, opened _another_ file drawer, and finally pulled out a rather scanty-looking file, which he tapped with his wand. Another file appeared on top of the first, and he handed this to me. I tucked it in my bag and gave Dad a kiss on the cheek, then gave Uncle Harry one too, for good measure.

I snagged the carton of orange chicken on my way out. I never turn down free food. I'm a Weasley, after all.


	8. Bounty Hunters: 1, Aurors: 0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that 'hunted down' is probably not the most accurate turn of phrase, but it sounds better than 'been insulted by and eventually brought down via a series of accidents that worked out in my favour rather less often than not'. Semantics.

I was feeling quite fit and confident the next morning, and by morning of course I mean noon. Whatever had been getting to me all afternoon yesterday seemed to have worn off in the light of the new day. I pulled Knapper's file out and spread it across the unmade bed (the housework was really slipping now Scorpius wasn't home to do it).

Most of what was here, I already knew. I saw there was a note about his wife that Angelo either hadn't turned up or hadn't bothered to tell me. Good ol' Lomatia had a criminal record too. She'd hexed the neighbour's dog a few too many times last year. I had a good laugh over this, and then read the report on Knapper's arrest. The arresting officer had noted that Knapper had a number of objects they couldn't even identify on him, and they had been handed over to the Department of Mysteries. That couldn't be good. There was a note at the bottom in Dad's handwriting that said he'd interrogated Knapper and had agreed to bail after deciding he was unlikely to become violent if released. Another note stuck to the file said a research request had been sent to cross-check for known associates, but had not been filled yet. Apparently all the departments were behind, and Knapper was a low priority.

Nothing terribly helpful here, but at least I knew what the Aurors knew now, and that made me feel a bit better that they hadn't gotten any further than I had. They hadn't even turned up the half-brother or Hiram Worthing. Haha! Score one for the bounty hunter!

After a cup of very strong tea, I was raring to go. First things first. I knew who I was going to ask for back-up, and I might just catch him on his lunchtime body receipts if I hurried.

I sailed into the office just as Lydia was handing a bag of Galleons and a case folder to Dino Agnelli.

“Hi Rose,” Lydia said cheerfully. “Caught Knapper yet?”

“Nope. Dino, can I ask you a favour?”

He was thumbing through the folder and didn't look up at me. “I'm kinda busy today, Rose. Can it wait?”

I glanced at Angelo's door. “Not really.”

Dino heaved a sigh that I decided not to be offended by. He had given me some training when I first started this, so we'd worked together before on pick-ups. I'm pretty sure he saw me as a mild annoyance at best and a huge pain in the butt at worst. So we were practically family. “If you want to talk, you can come along with me. I'm picking up an Assault and Magical Battery.”

“Sure.” I waved to Lydia as I followed Dino out the door.

He stopped a few feet into the street. I put my hand on his arm to guide me, and we Apparated to a rooftop that looked to be in another part of London. I started talking while Dino investigated the area.

“I have this pick-up I can't find-”

“Butrus Knapper,” Dino filled in, poking his wand at a skylight. “He doesn't even have an Apparition license, how far could he get?”

I felt a sting of annoyance at that, and tried not to let it get to me. Dino was related to Angelo, after all, and I keep thinking I'm used to Agnelli men's rudeness, but then they spring it on me again. “Apparently he got far enough to hide pretty deep. I can't find him. I have a lead I want to check out but I need back-up.”

“So you want me to play back-up to you while you check it out?” Dino said. He muttered a few spells at the door that led into the building, and it popped open with a soft click. “Cheap wards,” he said, and set off down the stairs.

I followed him out onto the ninth floor and down the hall. “So will you help me out? Maybe after this pick-up we could go check it out.”

“I don't know, Rose, there's always trouble around you,” he said, reading the gold numbers on the doors. I wondered if the entire building was magical or if there was just a wizard living here among Muggles. It didn't seem like anybody was home, the floor was quiet, so I guess it didn't matter.

“It's not my fault,” I told him. “I don't do these things on purpose.”

“Thus the problem.” He put a hand to his lips then and pointed at the door of 9B.

Guess this was his perp. I zipped my mouth shut, and he rolled his eyes at me.

Dino thumped on the door. “Bond enforcement agents! We are legally authorized to bring you to the custody of Magical Law Enforcement. Come out with your wand up!”

Huh. It did sound much better when Dino said it, I had to admit, but I was much cheered when it didn't work for him any better than it had done for Fred.

“Bugger off, you devil!” came a shrill soprano voice from inside.

“You're picking up a woman?” I asked, rather surprised. It seemed almost unsporting for Dino to go after a witch, even on an Assault and Magical Battery. Shouldn't Angelo have given the job to me?

I don't know why it surprised me, actually. I've hunted down nearly as many witches as wizards, and they're often even more vicious than the men in fighting back. And yes, I'm aware that 'hunted down' is probably not the most accurate turn of phrase, but it sounds better than 'been insulted by and eventually brought down via a series of accidents that worked out in my favour rather less often than not'. Semantics. Of course, this train of thought also reminded me _why_ Angelo hadn't given me the job. I was mostly incompetent, and I didn't like scary felons.

Dino didn't answer, and began shooting spells at the door, throwing his shoulder against it occasionally. I could hear screaming from inside. There was a male voice pleading with the screaming female. Great, she's with someone. Angry spouses, even battered ones, are always a volatile addition to the mix in a take-down. Will they help you or hex you? You just don't know.

Come to think of it, the male voice sounded vaguely familiar. Before I could place it, Dino had knocked in the door through a combination of some nasty-looking spells I didn't recognize and sheer brute force. I stepped aside, flattening against the freshly painted wall – honestly, it was a relief to meet a felon who knew basic home maintenance – and hoped the protective enchantments would hold in the walls now the door was busted in.

Dino ducked under a jet of purple flames, then shot a Stunner underhand. I heard a crash from inside and risked a peek around the door. My jaw dropped.

“Louis?” I asked in disbelief.

“Rose?”

My cousin was standing on top of an armchair, hugging the seat cushion to him as if he thought it was a shield. This seemed weird to me, but maybe she enchanted her cushions for extra protection in case of bad guy attack. I don't know her life.

“What the hell are you doing here, Louis?”

His eyes were wide as saucers, his red-gold hair gleaming in the light of the candles and oil lamps. I had a sudden nasty feeling that Louis wasn't holding the seat cushion to his chest as a shield, but rather because it was large enough to conceal his entire apparently naked torso. I took in the scene around the small flat. The curtains were drawn tight. Cloying perfume filled the air with a musky scent. Rose petals were strewn about somewhat haphazardly, and there were candles in quantities far in excess of the norm. The felon my cousin was evidently dating was lying on the floor, Stunned, wearing nothing but what my aunt Ginny had once called 'lace and hope'.

“Oh holy Kneazles,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What the bloody hell have you been doing? No, don't tell me, I don't want to know. How on earth did you get involved with this woman? Have you any idea what she's even being arrested for?”

Dino was grinning as he Incarcerated Louis's girlfriend. “This is why I don't want to work with you, Rose. I'm amazed nothing blew up, actually.”

“That was later,” Louis said.

“Gah,” I exclaimed.

“I met her at the pub,” Louis told me. “She said she was in some trouble with the law, but she was so hot.”

“What were you doing at a pub?” I demanded. “It's one o'clock in the afternoon!”

“Well, I'd been there since last night. They threw us out about an hour ago so we went back to her place for a nightcap, and one thing led to another.”

One thing had never led to a room full of candles and rose petals the first time I met anyone. I tried not to be impressed despite myself at the strength of Louis's pimp hand.

It occurred to me that every time I ran into something odd or went to a seedy place, it turned out my cousin Louis had already been there, or been thrown out of there, with some witch he was dating. Maybe Louis was secretly a supervillain, or a serial killer like Venatici. Probably not, though. Maybe one of his girlfriends was.

Dino pulled the woman to her feet. “Rose, if you want to wait until next week, I might be able to make time to come along with you.”

Next week? I gaped at him. I'd be living in a cardboard box by then. Or buried in one, since Angelo would have killed me if I didn't have Knapper by then.

Dino read me lack of grateful happiness over his offer. “Best I can do. I've got a ton of work of my own, and my wife informs me we're going away for a long weekend, so I'll be gone for the next four days. Sorry. Bad timing. Mind locking up behind me?”

“Sure. Yeah.” I was pretty sure he was just too proud to be my back-up, but I couldn't see a way of forcing him to help me. I watched him drag the woman out the door, then turned to my cousin. “You'd better go home, Louis.”

He looked shifty for a moment, then admitted, “I need a lift.”

“What are you on about?” I asked suspiciously.

“My Apparition license was revoked after that, erm, incident with that witch in Cornwall, and I can't Floo home naked, obviously-”

“I can't take you home,” I interrupted him. “If I take you home, they'll all think I've arrested you, and I'll never hear the end of it from my mother. Ask one of your sisters to come round for you.

“Like this?” he asked incredulously. “I haven't any drawers on, thank you very much. We left my clothes behind earlier in the evening, I've no idea where they are.”

“Well, that isn't my fault. Make a sheet toga and call Victoire.”

“She'll never let me live it down. Go on, you can drop my a few blocks away.”

“So you can march through Tinworth wrapped in a sheet and your mum can call mine and ask why I brought you home in the nuddy? I think not.”

“You've no sense of family duty, Rose,” Louis said mournfully.

“Bugger off. I could have been Flooing the lot of them to tell them how I found you, couldn't I?” I paused, tapping my foot impatiently. This should not be my problem. What was wrong with my life that I had to contemplate how to get my cousin home without anyone seeing him naked? Honestly, I should've raised thestrals, it'd be less trouble. “What if I leave you at Uncle George's shop? They're bound to have something you can wear there.”

Louis looked horrified. “Show up starkers at Uncle George's? Are you mad?”

I threw up my hands. “All right then, you figure it out.”

“Bloody hell, Rose.” Louis adjusted the cushion in front of him. Really, my life could not be more crap.

“What if I call Hugo? Or Albus? One of them can loan you some clothes and take you home.”

Louis didn't look appreciative enough, but agreed to this. “I suppose if that's the best you can think of.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Ingrate. Fine, if that's how he wanted to be, I was calling James. It was sure to be the fastest way to make certain the entire family knew Louis's predicament, and thus could be considered rather mean, yes, however it would also be very funny.

I Flooed James's house, and after I'd yelled his name for a few minutes, he turned up in the living room.

“All right there, Rose?”

“I need you to come over here and get Louis.” I gave him the address. “And bring him some trousers, for the love of God.”

James grinned. “A day without trouserless Louis is a day without sunshine.”

“Just be quick about it,” I said, ducking back out of the fireplace.

Ten minutes later, I stood in the broken doorway, examining the damage and hoping I could fix it, when I heard footsteps coming. They didn't sound like James Potter's heavy footsteps. I turned and saw my cousin Lily, James's little sister.

“Hi Lily. I meant James to come pick him up. How did you get slated with Louis Pick-up Duty?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “I owe James money. He knocked half off my debt if I'd come for Louis.”

“Nice.” James was a terrible creditor, so this was luck for Lily. Charging your relatives compound interest is dirty pool, I tell you. I once borrowed five Galleons from him while we were at school, and I swear he was interviewing Slytherins to be enforcers and break my kneecaps or something when I hadn't paid him back within a fortnight.

Lily stopped short when she saw Louis, still holding the cushion in front of him, and made a face. “I thought he was joking about bringing clothes along.”

Louis went pale. “You didn't bring clothes?”

“Well, no-”

Louis let out a moan and threw himself into the overstuffed couch. Lily and I both backed away, shielding our eyes.

“Louis!” Lily shrieked.

“I can't believe you didn't bring me trousers!” Louis wailed.

“I thought he was joking! It's James, he's always an ass.”

“I'm going to have to do the Sheet Toga Walk of Shame _again_ , aren't I?” he said miserably. “You can open your eyes again.”

I opened my eyes. He was safely covered again, thank God.

Lily was looking around the flat. “Was there a fight?”

“One of my colleagues took Louis's girlfriend into custody,” I explained, while Louis hid his face with one hand, still clutching the pillow with the other.

“Oh, not again,” Lily said in exasperation. “Honestly Louis, can't you find any girl to sleep with you who's not defective in some way?”

“Can't we conjure him something?” I asked desperately. I really wanted to flee the scene and leave him to Lily, but was afraid she'd Body-Bind me and make me help out anyway.

“I never got the hang of doing clothes,” Lily said apologetically. “I could make you a spanking good pair of glasses, though. I'm very good at conjuring those, I can even adjust my prescription now.”

“That must come in handy,” I said, interested. “Can you do sunglasses as well? I'm always losing mine.”

“I'm in _distress_ ,” Louis whinged. “Can you talk about your bloody glasses later?”

“All right, all right, we'll see what we can do.”

Conjuring clothes had never really been my forte, but I gave it a go, and between me and Lily, we managed a pair of lederhosen for Louis. I'll admit, we were trying for tweed trousers, but they covered up the necessaries, and that was really the important thing here. Louis put them on with much grumbling, and Lily escorted him out, rolling her eyes. I repaired the door and locked up the felonious girlfriend's flat behind us, and we Apparated our separate ways.


	9. The Good One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Kochel is mean. Mean and vindictive, and she doesn't like us. Okay, we never pay our rent on time and leave our dirty wellies in the hallway, but other than that, we're pretty good tenants. Except that time we'd had a party and my cousin James made a four-foot hole in the wall, but she could hardly count that against us.

Cumberland Borrowdale was teeming with tourists as I trudged through the village. I had my big orange sunglasses on, and between those and the yellow Shield Hat I was wearing, most of my head was covered. It made it easier to avoid eye contact. For some reason, people always take me for a local everywhere I go, so I get stopped and asked for directions. Handy for snooping, but it gets pretty annoying at times, and I wanted to avoid it today. I was on a mission.

Balthazar Pulford was a sketchy character, and I was going to find out what that sketch was.

I Disillusioned myself as I turned up the path to Pulford's house and away from Muggle eyesight. I wasn't invisible, but I faded in well enough. It was like I'd become background. Still there if you looked hard enough, but not plain as day. I was wearing clothes designed to blend in – a t-shirt nearly the same colour as the trees, with a cartoon Bundimun on it (admittedly, this t-shirt had seemed funnier before Parmenter had thrown them at me, but it was the only green shirt that was clean) and faded brown trousers. I sort of regretted the bright yellow Shield Hat, but I wasn't forgoing the protection just because the colour was poorly thought out for camouflage.

I carefully made my way closer to Pulford's house. It was just as obviously magical as before, and now had a plume of blue smoke coming out the chimney. I shook my head at it in disbelief. Really, people. No class.

I made my way to the spot in the backyard where I'd found halfway decent cover before and hunkered down behind a hedge. I could see the back door pretty clearly, and the kitchen window. There were two shadowy figures moving behind the door. Was it finally Knapper?

The shadowy figures disappeared then, and I crouched in the hedges, waiting and wishing this wasn't stupidly dangerous and that I had backup, so at least I'd have someone to chat with. I didn't even have any éclairs. What's surveillance without éclairs?

After about five minutes, my legs gave out on me. Yeah, I'm not in that great shape, what can I say. I sat down cross-legged in the grass behind the hedge, and dug around in my shoulder bag for a snack.

At the bottom of my bag was a gift from my grandfather that I'd never put away properly after my birthday. I'd meant to give them to my other grandfather, actually. Granddad Granger, my mum's father, is a dentist, so he generally gives me Muggle gifts, which more often than not I give to Granddad Weasley. Sometimes he just steals it outright before I can give it to him – if he catches sight of anything Muggle, you can kiss it good-bye. Granddad Granger had given me these, saying they'd help out with my job. It was sweet of him, and they'd seemed straightforward enough, so I hadn't asked how to use them.

I looked them over now. They looked like Omnioculars, but without the dials and fiddly bits. Maybe they still work, despite being bashed around in my handbag for months. I pulled a candy wrapper off them that was stuck on with a bit of caramel, and held them up to my eyes.

On the second try, I got them the right way round, and suddenly Pulford's kitchen window was right up close. Cool. There weren't any buttons for replay or special effects, so I assumed all they did was show you a close-up.

They weren't terribly helpful. All I could see was the filmy white curtain, and dark shapes behind it that looked like furniture. Oh well.

I was bored. I looked down at my watch. I'd been sitting there for five minutes. Truly, I was pathetic.

I stuck the binoculars back in my bag and poked around a bit more, finally coming up with a smashed humbug. How did that even get in there? I pitched it into the grass just as the back door popped open.

I winced, ducking my head unconsciously, and hoped the flying humbug hadn't been visible.

Pulford stepped outside, not looking around, simply walked out of his house as if he hadn't a care in the world. Well, at least he wasn't expecting surveillance.

My jaw dropped when the next person came out the back door. Hiram Worthing. So much for him not being much in contact with his old friend any more. Obviously they still knew each other. Worthing did look around as he came outside, but didn't notice me.

Neither of them spoke a word to each other, simply nodding, and then Worthing Disapparated and Pulford went back inside. I heard the clicks of magical locks sliding into place.

I stared at the spot where Worthing had disappeared. Are you kidding me? He said they weren't really friends any more, didn't he? I tried to recall his exact words, but couldn't. Crap. Why was he here? Was he tipping Pulford off, warning him that I'd found their connection? Maybe it was more important than I thought. Maybe Knapper was in there after all and now he would find a new hideout. Dammit, dammit, dammit. I had the urge to roll around in the grass and scream, and suddenly felt a strong kinship with Johnny Lupin, the king of rolling around on the floor throwing a tantrum. If I were his age, I would take every opportunity that I could to pitch a big fit, too.

I need backup, for cripes' sake. I need to be able to kick down that door and then kick some felonious butt. Something was going on in there, and I wanted to know what. I spent the next twenty minutes waffling over whether I should just go bang on the door and yell at Pulford. Maybe I'd been wrong, and he wasn't the jerk who was harbouring Knapper. Maybe Worthing the Liar was. Wouldn't that be just my luck.

It just goes to show, Victoire is right. Everyone lies.

The only thing that stopped me from marching up there and telling Pulford off was the memory of the Shield Hat's destruction. I didn't want that to happen to my head.

I chewed on my thumbnail while I decided what to do. It's a bad habit, I know, I've been trying to stop for years.

If I went up there and Pulford attacked me, nobody knew where I was. Scorpius had been at work when I went out, and I hadn't mentioned going to Pulford's today. But maybe he wouldn't hex me, and I'd walk in and take Knapper into custody and Bob's your uncle, five hundred Galleons was in my pocket.

Yeah right. On the whole, I thought I wasn't brave enough to tackle Pulford again on my own. I kind of suck at this whole bounty hunter thing, in case you hadn't noticed. I decided to just go home and try to come up with a new plan. Maybe I could think of a way to browbeat Dino into coming along before he left on his weekend away with his wife.

I was still feeling angry and incompetent when I got home and found Scorpius, still in his work robes, sitting on the floor outside our front door. I gave him a wary look as I approached.

“What's the matter? Why are you out here?”

“Read the sign,” he said dully.

I noticed the sign pinned to our door. I didn't have to read the whole thing. The title was enough. Eviction Notice. I tried to open the door without thinking, waving my wand down the length of it, but the locks didn't respond to me. I stared at the door, shocked, then looked down at Scorpius.

“Didn't you pay the rent?” I asked in disbelief.

“I haven't been paid yet, Rose. Friday I'll have the blunt for it, but today we can't make our rent. I thought Mrs. Kochel would wait. She said she'd wait.” He seemed pretty angry.

“What are we going to do? Do you think she'll Vanish all our things and rent out our flat?” I asked, panic rising in my chest. Mrs. Kochel is mean. Mean and vindictive, and she doesn't like us. Okay, we never pay our rent on time and leave our dirty wellies in the hallway, but other than that, we're pretty good tenants. Except that time we'd had a party and my cousin James made a four-foot hole in the wall, but she could hardly count that against us.

“I don't know.” Scorpius was staring at his feet still, his hands clasped tightly, arms resting on his updrawn knees. “We need somewhere to stay tonight. Victoire and Teddy's?”

“Hugo will let us stay at his place. He has a spare bedroom.” My brother might not be terribly pleased about it, but he would let us stay. And he'd probably keep quiet about it, too, unlike Teddy Lupin, who would immediately tell my uncle Harry. No one in this family can keep a secret, honestly. Probably Hugo would shut up about it at least until we got the money for the rent and were back in our flat, and then it would be a done deal and I could brush it off as being in the past. Ooh. New horrible thought. “D'you think she'll lease it to us again? Wasn't there a clause in the contract saying she could deny renewing our lease if we were late on the rent?”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “I think there was. I didn't read it very closely. Your mum would know, she looked it over before we signed, remember?”

“I am not asking my mum what the terms of our lease regarding eviction were,” I said with finality.

“Well, let's go to Hugo's, then.” Scorpius got to his feet, and I took his hand, falling into step with him.

I looked back over my shoulder as we walked away, hoping that our things would still be there when we had the money for Mrs. Kochel.

Scorpius glanced down at me, and lifted our entwined hands to kiss the back of mine. “It'll be all right, Rose.”

“How?”

He didn't answer.

*

Hugo answered the door in a Chudley Cannons t-shirt, with a butterbeer in his hand. I forgot, the Cannons were playing today. He raised an eyebrow at us, plainly wondering what the hell we were doing on his doorstep.

“Hugo!” I gave my brother a hearty hug. He staggered a bit. I guess I'm overly affectionate when I'm homeless. “Do you mind if we spend a few days here?”

“Why, what's wrong with your place?”

“It's complicated,” I told him.

“Did you get evicted?”

“Maybe it's not so complicated,” Scorpius remarked, kicking off his shoes.

“You can stay,” Hugo said. “Want a butterbeer, Scorpius?”

I sat on the couch as they went into the kitchen, chatting like the responsible adults with paying jobs that they were, and feeling sorry for myself. If I'd caught Knapper, this wouldn't have happened. On the other hand, if Scorpius had had the foresight to ask for a pay advance, this wouldn't have happened. Blaming it on him as well, if only in my head, made me feel a bit better. He'd talked to Mrs. Kochel about rent once already, so I suppose I should talk to her as well. Maybe I can talk her into letting us back into our flat.

“So the Cannons are playing tonight,” Hugo said, sitting in the leather armchair across from the couch and propping his feet up on the coffee table. “I'm going over to Mum and Dad's to watch the game on their wireless with Dad. Want to come along?”

“Do _not_ tell them about us getting evicted,” I warned him. “It's only temporary.”

“I never tell them anything about you,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I find it's a good policy, because then I don't have to listen to them complain about your job.”

Scorpius sat down next to me and handed me a butterbeer. I cracked it open and said to my brother, “Remember when I was the perfect child and you were the brat?”

“Yeah,” Hugo said with a reminiscent grin. “Funny how things work out when you grow up. Now I'm the good one and you're the screw-up.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he mirrored me.

We made it over to my parents' house in time for dinner, handily. Even Hugo isn't above bumming a free meal that someone else had to cook.

Dad was cooking tonight. Dad cooking was sort of a big deal. He announced it days beforehand, and made sure everyone was aware of how much we ought to be impressed by it. He always did it for Chudley Cannons games, I think it's one of those weird sports superstitions where if you do something once and the team plays well that day (or in the case of the Cannons, sucks slightly less), you have to keep doing it forever. It seems to be a guy thing, but I can't be sure. I think Mum's just relieved not to have to cook now and then, so she puts up with it, even though she has to do the washing-up anyway.

Of course, Dad's cooking prowess is significantly lower even than Mum's in most areas, but he can make one thing, and make it well: breakfast. He presides over the frying pan on nights that he cooks with the air of an admiral commanding his fleet, wand in one hand and an orange apron tied around his waist.

The table was loaded with eggs, sausages, bacon, fried bread, and baked beans when we arrived, all of it dripping with oils and fats and smelling utterly delicious. It's a wonder any of us survived to adulthood.

“Rose!” Mum said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “I didn't know you were coming. Hello, dear,” she added to Scorpius.

“Mrs. Weasley,” he said, and they exchanged a cheek kiss as well.

Dad had a plate loaded with enough fried foods to clog the arteries of a small Mediterranean country, and was already digging in. He waved to me with his fork, a piece of fried bread in his hand.

“I heard about your cousin Louis,” he said around a mouthful of beans. Mum shot him a look, and he swallowed before he resumed chortling.

“I heard about it as well,” Mum said ominously. “Your aunt Fleur Flooed me to tell me you'd arrested Louis's girlfriend?”

“That wasn't me,” I said, grabbing some fried bread. “That was Dino. She ran out on her bail, he had to. Besides, it isn't _really_ arresting her. I'm not an MLE. I just bring people in to custody who've already been arrested and then ran off.”

“Was he really naked?” Hugo asked.

I made a face. “Unfortunately.”

“Louis is always good for a laugh,” Dad said, still chuckling.

“She was arrested on an Assault and Magical Battery, you know,” I informed my mother, who was still looking at me suspiciously, as if I'd deliberately arrested my cousin's girlfriend to embarrass her in front of my aunt. “Besides, she wasn't his girlfriend. He'd picked her up in a pub that morning.”

“I don't know how he does it,” Hugo said with a grin as he piled bacon on his plate. “If you put Louis in a room full of choirgirls and nuns, he'd find the only one who would take all his money and leave him naked in an alley, without his wand.”

Dad choked on his beans and had to take a swallow of pumpkin juice. Scorpius was laughing quietly as he filled his own plate, shaking his head.

Mum gave all of us a severe look. “It's not funny.”

“You know, Louis is exactly the sort of idiot who would sign one of those custodian bonds for some witch he barely knows-” Hugo's voice cut off with a grunt of pain. I'm pretty sure Dad had kicked him under the table.

Mum set her glass down with a thump and scowled at my brother. “Being ill-informed about one's rights does _not_ make a person stupid. These people who are trapped in an unlawful and inhumane magical contract didn't know what protections the law should be giving them, and you'd do well to feel some sympathy for their plight-”

“Game's on,” Dad said, grabbing his plate and making a beeline for the wireless.

“Ronald Weasley, you'd better not spill anything!” Mum yelled after him.

Hugo stacked a few more slices of fried bread on his plate, along with the jar of marmalade, and followed Dad. Scorpius has much better table manners than the rest of us, and asked to be excused from the table before he fled the scene as well.

Mum glared after the three of them for a moment, then folded her arms on the table in front of her and eyed me. “Go on, Rose.”

I grabbed my plate and reached the living room just in time to hear Dad saying to Hugo in a low voice, “Try not to make any more leading comments around your mum.”

“Sorry,” Hugo said. “It just slipped out.”

The game wasn't actually on yet. There were a couple of sports announcers talking about the Cannons' history of shoddy performances. You could say that the Cannons had been having a bad run for the past fifty or sixty years, although I'm not sure they've ever had a good game. They'd always been the bottom of the league, but my dad never missed a game anyway, watching them and moaning about their poor skills and awful players. It seems to make him happy. I think the personality trait that makes him do that is the same one that makes my mum doggedly try to cook, even though she's no good at it. My parents are weird.

“Any luck with Knapper, Rosie?” Dad asked, scooping up beans onto his toast.

“Not yet. I saw in the file you didn't give me-”

“You gave her confidential Ministry information?” Mum's voice said behind me, sounding annoyed but not really surprised.

“No,” Dad said, and then, because he has this strange compulsion to tell my mum the truth, he added, “Harry said I could.”

Mum harrumphed at him, and I hurried to speak before she could lecture him about Ministry secrets. “Dad, there was a note that said you'd sent out some things Knappers was caught with to the Department of Mysteries. Did they identify them yet?”

“If they did, they didn't tell me about it,” Dad said, rolling his eyes. “That lot never wants to share, it's like pulling gnomes to get them to tell us anything.”

“How about the research on known associates?”

Dad shook his head. “Nothing useful. A few that he sold to, none of his suppliers. I'm not sure how thorough their research was, everyone's busy working on the Venatici case.”

“They've even had us looking into him in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts,” Scorpius put in. “The victims were all Muggles, after all. Nothing's turned up yet in our records, though.”

Dad grunted. “If they'd been doing their jobs properly all these years, maybe it would have.”

“It's a mess in there,” Scorpius agreed.

It was sort of weird to have my dad and Scorpius talking Ministry business together, not to mention agreeing with each other. I suppose Dad liked Scorpius better now he had a job.

“I can keep an eye out for Knapper's name while I'm filing,” Scorpius volunteered. “Maybe something useful will turn up on your case in some of my paperwork.”

That seemed rather unlikely. I had to stop myself rolling my eyes at him so I didn't hurt his feelings, and smiled instead. He smiled back, and went back to his food as the game began. Dad promptly lost all interest in the conversation, his eyes glued to the wireless. Hugo wasn't paying any attention to us either, and Mum went off to start the washing-up. I watched Scorpius for a moment as he watched the wireless.

There was a tightness in his face that had never been there before. It occurred to me that I hadn't heard him singing in nearly a fortnight – since he began working at the Ministry. He really was stressed out over this stupid job he had to work. Guilt crept up over me, making my insides burn, or maybe that was the greasy food. I had to find Knapper so Scorpius could go back to painting.

It was time for that cup of tea with Hiram Worthing.


	10. Like A Law Or Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You tell that woman you're related to not to darken my door again,” Angelo said, pointing at me. “And I better not hear you mention her in my office again, either. She is dead to me! Vietato il discorso!”
> 
> “Uh-huh,” I said, unimpressed. That was the fourth time he'd forbidden me to speak of my mother since I'd started working there.

Hugo reminded me first thing the next morning why I dislike staying at his place. He was up at the crack of dawn, banging about the flat and blaring the Weird Sisters at top volume from the wireless.

I rolled over and saw Scorpius blinking at me groggily.

“What time is it?” he muttered.

“You don't want to know,” I said, my voice scratchy with sleep.

Hugo poked his head in our room. “Oh good, you're up. I thought I'd do a bit of a fry-up for us before I go to work.”

“We had a fry-up at Mum and Dad's last night,” I pointed out, sitting up. I could feel my hair sticking up at weird angles. I probably looked a hot mess.

“You look a hot mess, Rose,” Hugo said cheerfully.

I gave him the evil eye. “I don't normally get up this early.”

“Is it really five A.M.?” Scorpius asked in horror. “I could've slept another hour at least.”

“Since you're both up, come eat,” Hugo said, and left the room.

“I hate your brother,” Scorpius said to me.

“I'll go beg Mrs. Kochel to take us back first thing this morning.”

“Tell her we'll do anything she asks, if she'll only give us back our flat.”

We stumbled out to the kitchen, squinting into the bright light. How is it daytime at this hour? That can't possibly be right. I'd only gotten half the sleep I normally did. It was a nap for me this afternoon, I'll tell you that much. It is simply not normal to be awake at this hour unless one has been up all night and is only just going to bed.

Hugo was whistling to himself as he whisked some eggs and poured them into a frying pan. Scorpius sat down on a barstool at the counter on his second try, and I leaned against him sleepily.

“You two are grumpy gusses in the morning, aren't you?” my unnatural brother said.

Scorpius gave him the evil eye. I was sort of hoping Malfoy blood could make that work, but sadly Hugo's head completely failed to burst into flame. Hugo went back to whistling and dished us up some fried eggs. There's something wrong with him, honestly.

Hugo left for St. Mungo's half an hour later. After drinking three cups of very strong tea, Scorpius went to work as well, still grumbling about the extra hour of sleep he'd missed out on. I decided since I was up anyway, I may as well get out there and get something done. Today I was going to be productive and assertive, and not take crap from anyone. Really. Unless it was my mother, because I have to take her crap. She gave birth to me. It's like a law or something.

I took a long shower, revelling in hot water I didn't have to pay for and hoping to punish my brother with a huge water bill for waking me at dawn (take that, Hugo!).

I sat on the bed in the guest room and combed my hair, wondering what the hell I was going to wear today. All my clothes were locked up in our flat, or possibly Vanished or donated to charity by now. I went into Hugo's room and rummaged through his drawers, thinking of shrinking one of his shirts to fit me, and found the shirt I'd been wearing when I fell through Harmon Ladd's roof folded neatly next to Hugo's socks. I pulled it out. He'd cleaned the blood off it and repaired the gash. It was good as new. Aw. My brother's a good sort, really.

Now I felt sort of bad about running up his water bill, though. Well, what's done is done.

I pulled the shirt on and looked at my reflection in the mirror for a moment, unsure for the first time since I was sixteen if I was pleased with what I saw.

Clearly, Worthing had not taken me seriously as a bounty hunter. I'm not big and scary like Dino Agnelli, and my wardrobe is sadly lacking in intimidation factor. As it seems unlikely for me to suddenly grow six inches and put on a couple stone of muscle overnight (not without some Polyjuice Potion anyway), changing my wardrobe seemed the way to go. Maybe I would feel productive and assertive if I had different clothes. Of course, I had no money to buy new clothes, so I was going to have to rely on other sources. But first things first. I needed to go talk to the landlady.

Mrs. Kochel was in her seventies. Everything about her was thick, from her arms to her Slavic accent, and especially her legs, which were always encased in dark brown compression hose that made them look like bratwurst. It wasn't that she was fat, particularly. It was just that she was built like a tree stump.

She opened the door very quickly when I knocked, so I knew I hadn't woken her up. She was probably a weirdo morning person like my brother. When she saw it was me, her face set into a deeper frown and she looked me up and down distastefully, as if I were a dog who'd just messed on her rug. “What do you want?”

No point beating around the bush, not with Mrs. Kochel. It was always straight down to business with her. “Will you hold our flat for us? We'll have the money for you on Friday, I swear.”

She didn't look as if she believed me. “You and boyfriend always swearing. _'We pay you tomorrow,'_ and then you give me no money. You should haff paid me two weeks ago. I rent out your flat to new people who pay rent on time, and give things left behind to St. Mungo's Charity.”

“But all our things were in there! They weren't left behind, we couldn't get them out!” I said indignantly. “Please, just give us one more chance.”

“You don't pay your rent, why should I let you back in?” she said, burly arms folded under her chest.

“It would save you the bother of having to clean the flat and deal with the charity people,” I said. The St. Mungo's Charity collectors were notorious for their poor attitude. Mrs. Kochel hated them. I saw her throw a tin of peas at one out the window last Christmas.

Mrs. Kochel seemed to consider this. “This is true,” she allowed.

“And Scorpius has a job with the Ministry now-” _temporarily_ , I added in my head - “so we'll have the rent money on time next time, I promise.”

“Okay,” Mrs. Kochel said, in a tone that indicated she felt she was bestowing a generous stay of execution on a hardened criminal. “You come back after pay rent. If you lie to me, I hex off all your hair and beat boyfriend soundly.” She waved a sausage-like finger at me threateningly.

“Okay. Yes. No problem. Beat him all you like.”

She waved me away, and I let out a long breath of relief as the door closed. I'm pretty sure that was an empty threat. Nearly. All right, I'm a little afraid of my landlady. She could probably crush me with one hand. And Scorpius fears her hose above all else.

I decided since I was already getting threatened this morning, I may as well go by Angelo's too. Lydia was at her desk, charming her fingernails bright red, when I sailed into the office.

“Someone's in a good mood,” she said, looking me up and down.

“I'm being productive and assertive today.”

“Well don't get any on me,” Lydia said. “I don't want to be either of those.”

Angelo stuck his head out of his office. “Oh, it's you,” he said, eyeing me with distaste. “Do you know your mother is trying to bankrupt me?”

“No one's trying to bankrupt you, she just doesn't like that custodian law,” I told him.

“Get over it,” Lydia added.

“You tell that woman you're related to not to darken my door again,” Angelo said, pointing at me. “And I better not hear you mention her in my office again, either. She is dead to me! Vietato il discorso!”

“Uh-huh,” I said, unimpressed. That was the fourth time he'd forbidden me to speak of my mother since I'd started working there.

“Did you find Knapper yet?” Angelo demanded.

“I'm still working on that.”

Angelo shook his head. “I'm losing money. Every day you don't find that idiot costs me money. Your entire family is trying to bankrupt me.”

“It's all part of my master plan,” I assured him. “First you, then Pilliwickle's, then the entire tri-city area.”

“Why do I hire you people?” Angelo asked in disgust, glaring at me and Lydia. “You're all useless.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. Angelo slammed his office door shut, yelling, “Find Knapper or you're sacked!”

“How's the quitting smoking going?” I asked Lydia.

“It's all right. Want a quick pick-up? Shoplifting in your uncle's shop. Seems right up your alley.”

“Sure.” I took the file from her and paged through it. Some eighteen year old kid was caught for the fourth time at Uncle George's, shoplifting Daydream Charms. Lame. Uncle George had pressed charges, and the girl hadn't shown up for her court date. Also lame. I'd go pick her up later. For now, I had other Plimpies to fry. Well, maybe not fry. My stomach still felt a little heavy from last night's fry-up, not to mention this morning's fry-up, and I didn't even want to see anything fried today.

My cousin Molly lives in an unpronounceable town in Wales, on Holy Island. She's the reserve Keeper for the Holyhead Harpies, the team my aunt Ginny once played for. She and Aunt Ginny get along extremely well, unsurprisingly. Molly's all right, it's just that she and I don't have a lot in common, so I don't hang out with her much. She spends an awful lot of time with my cousin Roxanne, who also thinks the sun rises and sets on Aunt Ginny.

Molly opened the door to her flat and smiled at me. “All right there, Rose?”

Her hair was cut even shorter than the last time I'd seen her, standing up in an asymmetrical shock of green on top of her head, with a blonde streak at the front. I wondered if she'd charmed it that colour herself, or had it done. It looked very cool. There was no way I could've pulled it off, but Molly managed it. It helped that she was wearing dragonskin pants and a very low-cut black vest. It's not like you can have green hair with just _any_ clothes.

“I need to borrow some clothes,” I told her as I stepped inside.

She looked rather surprised, and glanced down at the t-shirt I was wearing. It was one of my favourites: purple, with some truly adorable cartoon baby hippogriffs frolicking across the front in a cloud of rainbows and glitter.

“You want to borrow _my_ clothes?” Molly asked, as if she were making certain she hadn't been hallucinating.

“I need to look tougher. No one believes I'm a bounty hunter.”

“Do you still wear that shirt with the pink unicorn on it?”

“Well, yes,” I admitted.

“That might be why,” Molly said.

She followed me into her bedroom and I threw open the closet doors. Not only is Molly fond of wearing leather, she's also very neat and clean, so the closet was as diametrically opposite mine as was possible without creating a parallel universe. Everything was spaced evenly apart on the clothes rods or folded neatly onto shelves. Her shoes were lined up in a perfectly straight row on the floor, all polished and looking brand-new. My closet was an explosion of pink and purple, things slipping off their hangers and piled on the floor on top of shoes long widowed from their mates. I could not keep my closet looking like hers for more than five minutes if my life depended on it. Scorpius had given up on it and believed it lived according to new laws of magic that prevented cleaning spells working in there.

“What did you have in mind?” Molly asked, pulling out a red dragonskin miniskirt and offering it to me. “How about this?”

“Um, not that.”

After twenty minutes, I escaped with an armful of clothes and a promise not to let anything happen to them, which I might even keep. I went back to Hugo's and changed into a pair of black trousers which seemed primarily comprised of buckles and rivets, slid into a black low-cut top, and examined the effect.

I looked like a poseur.

Maybe I should dye my hair green, too.

Productive and assertive. I left Hugo's flat, still feeling well past half an idiot, and Apparated to the slum where the big fat liar lived.

Hiram Worthing's street was deserted when I arrived. Did anyone actually live there? Maybe the lines of washing hanging between the two buildings were just a front.

I knocked on his door and waited for ten minutes. It was pretty clear no one was home. I wonder if his flat has anti-Apparition wards. This was the sort of low-rent district where they wouldn't come standard, and a lot of people don't know how to do the spell themselves. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching me, and tried to Apparate in.

It was like being flung into a steel wall. The strength of the wards knocked me backward, and I skidded a few feet on my butt, bracing myself with my hands as I came to a stop. Damn. I hadn't expected that. That's the sort of ward people like my uncle Harry put on their houses, not what you'd normally find in this neighbourhood. What the hell was Worthing hiding in there that he needed security of that magnitude?

I cast a few spells to check him out, and found his security was tighter than any I'd ever run across. I'd never tested Uncle Harry's wards, but I'd be willing to put a couple Galleons on Worthing's security out-doing Uncle Harry's. Of course, there was one area most wizards forgot to protect against. Unfortunately, it was another skill I was lacking in.

I took a few steps back from the door and stared at it, thinking hard. If I ask him to come along again, he'll never stop bugging me. Worse still, if I say I need his help, he'll think he's my partner. But I don't know how to do this. I could buy a kit, but I don't know how quickly I could make it work. He doesn't even need a kit, he can do it with a kirby grip.

Damn.

I spun on the spot and reappeared in Diagon Alley, outside my uncle's shop, and went straight in. My cousin Fred was sitting on the counter, watching a pair of ten year old twin boys who were looking amongst the bins of joke candies very intently. He perked up when he saw me, though.

“Hi Rose!”

“Hi Fred. Want to come help me out? I need a lock picked the Muggle way.”

He puffed his chest out a bit. “Hell yeah. Dad's around here somewhere, he'll never notice I'm gone.” He looked down at my clothes. “Why are you wearing that? Should I be in disguise too? Let me get my kilt-”

“No time for that,” I said, tugging Fred's arm. “I don't want this bloke to come home while I'm breaking and entering illegally.”

“You're so lucky that you can break and enter legally sometimes,” Fred said enviously.

The legality of that was a little whiffy at any time, actually. I decided not to share that with him.

“Oi!” Fred pointed at the twins, who looked up at him guiltily. “Put anything in your pockets and it's straight to the clink with you. They can remove your extra ears later.”

They looked a little terrified, and I thought I saw one dig something out of his pocket, but Fred was already heading for the door, so I left the boys to Uncle George and followed him.

The street was still empty when we reappeared in front of Worthing's house. Fred had the door open in two shakes of a wand, and we were in. I locked the door behind us, and we stood there for a moment, looking around.

I'd only had tiny glimpses of the place before. There was the little round table and battered chair I'd seen from the window when Victoire and I were watching the place. There were a couple of dirty dishes in the sink, a single cup and saucer and a salad plate, and a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ on the round table. The harmonichord was gone, though.

“Dreary little place, isn't it?” Fred said conversationally, flicking a corner of the newspaper. “Who'd want to live somewhere like this?”

“Someone who has to,” I said, feeling rather annoyed with him. “Someone whose father doesn't own an entire building in Diagon Alley and a summer home in France.”

Fred looked slightly chagrined. “Sorry.”

I walked the tiny flat slowly. A narrow hallway led to a small, sparsely furnished bedroom and a tiny washroom. There was very little here, really. Hiram Worthing didn't have much of a life or personality, it seemed. The harmonichord had been the only interesting thing about him. I wondered if he'd had to sell it. Wish I had obscure antique musical instruments to sell, I might not've been evicted.

Fred was still in the kitchen, looking a bit bored, when I came back out of the bedroom.

“Find anything good?”

“Nope.”

“Where d'you suppose that leads?” Fred asked, nodding to a narrow door next to the small bank of cabinets. I hadn't noticed it before when I'd looked through the window; it wasn't visible from outside.

“Probably a pantry.”

Fred reached for the doorknob and I had a sudden very bad feeling.

“Fred, no-” I reached for him at the same time that he gave the knob a tug. A shrieking klaxon went off, and I grabbed Fred's arm just as a gust of purple came at us.

We reappeared outside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Fred looked salty-pale and completely stunned. I was feeling pretty terrified myself. Who the hell puts a spell like that on a pantry? That purple spell couldn't have been anything good. The only times I've seen that colour from a spell, extremely bad things happened to the person it was cast at.

Fred patted himself down and leaned against the façade of his father's store. “Merlin's beard.”

“Oh holy Kneazles,” I gasped, letting go of his arm and putting a hand to my chest. “My heart's going that fast.”

“Close one,” Fred agreed wanly. “I forgot how good you are at Apparating. Running away is your forte.”

I smiled as my heartbeat began to decelerate. “I should have that printed on a t-shirt.”

“Now I know what to get you for Christmas,” said Fred. “What the hell was that, Rose?”

“I don't know.”

“I'm going inside now,” Fred informed me. “And I'm going to give you a free copy of that Muggle book on lockpicking that my dad always keeps in stock. And then I'm going to have a really big drink.”

“That sounds like a really good plan,” I agreed. “Think I'll do the same.”

Fred went inside. I Apparated home. It wasn't until I got there that I remembered I'd been evicted. Mrs. Kochel was huffing her way up the stairs as I stood uncertainly in the corridor, still feeling frightened and wishing I could go hide in my closet for a while. She scowled at me when she caught sight of me, and I shrank back automatically.

“Why are you here? Do you haff rent money?” Mrs. Kochel demanded.

“Not yet.”

“Go away then, or I Vanish all your things and rent out flat to nice people who pay rent on time.” She seemed to notice how shaken I was, and frowned at me. “You see a Grim or what?”

“Almost. Sorry, I'll go.”

I had gotten a few steps down the hall when Mrs. Kochel called after me, “Someone came looking for you. I told him you don't live here no more because you and boyfriend don't pay no rent.”

Some of my fear evaporated under the rising annoyance. Did I just miss out on a lead because my landlady is bitter? “What did he look like?”

“I don't remember. You and boyfriend probably owe him money too,” Mrs. Kochel added sourly, and stomped off down the hall to terrorize another tenant.

“Bloody marvellous,” I said into the sudden silence.

So much for being productive and assertive.


	11. The Disappearing Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could do with some fish and chips, in the name of research, of course. I'd been sitting here hours, twiddling my thumbs, and my stomach was complaining loudly of my continued lack of forethought in handbag-based snacks.

Hugo woke us up the next morning with obnoxious cheer at what was, to any reasonable person, the middle of the night.

“Dear God,” Scorpius muttered as Hugo wished us a cheerful good morning. “Not again. This is grounds for justifiable homicide, isn't it?”

I made an obscene hand gesture at my brother and told him what he could do with his good morning.

Hugo was undaunted. “It's five already, the sun's up – well, nearly – and the birds are singing. It's going to be a beautiful day!”

I told him what he could do with his birds and his beautiful day, too.

“Fine, be that way,” my brother said huffily. “You can make your own damned breakfast.” He slammed the door, and a moment later I heard him yelling from the kitchen, “You're a crap houseguest, Rose!”

“Well, you're a crap host!” I yelled back.

Scorpius picked up his pillow and put it over his ear. I pulled the covers over my head and went back to sleep. It seemed I'd barely closed my eyes before Scorpius's alarm was going off, and he groaned as he rolled over and tried to reach across me to the alarm clock.

“Gah,” I muttered incoherently. “Gerroff me.”

The alarm abruptly stopped, and Scorpius wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close. “Mmm,” he mumbled into my hair. “Warm.”

“Work?” I mumbled back. We're not very talkative in the morning.

“Later.”

He had to rush to get ready, but I think he managed to make it to the Ministry on time.

I had a leisurely breakfast on my own, courtesy of my brother's well-stocked kitchen, then went to my room to contemplate my cousin Molly's clothes hanging in the closet.

I wasn't sure how well they'd worked. I certainly hadn't _felt_ any different. If anything, I'd felt even more incompetent than usual. My regular clothes may not look intimidating, but at least I felt comfortable when I wore them. I'm pretty confident as myself, usually. I'm not very confident as my cousin. And Scorpius had laughed and said I looked like a twit when he saw me in the buckle-and-rivet trousers.

But, I hadn't actually talked to any felons yesterday to see their reactions, so maybe I should give the tough-chick clothes one more chance.

I tried Worthing's house first, but there was still no answer. The man didn't have a job, where was he? I sat outside his house all morning, poorly Disillusioned, bored out of my mind, and uncomfortable in clothes that didn't suit me, but he never turned up. Nor did anyone else. Whatever alarm I'd triggered yesterday with Fred either had stopped its shrieking or had been Silenced, because I couldn't hear it from the street. I remembered suddenly how Victoire and I hadn't been able to hear the missing harmonichord playing. Maybe the alarm was still going off and I just couldn't hear it because the flat was so well soundproofed.

Who the hell has an alarm like that if they don't want it heard from outside? It was obviously not intended for burglars or to alert passing MLEs to a crime in progress. It must be designed for the resident of the flat. His security was really over-the-top for what was actually in the little flat. I wondered what was behind that door. Not a pantry, obviously. Hot cauldrons? Stolen jewellery? Obscure musical instruments?

The harmonichord was missing. It hit me all at once, realization blossoming inside my head, and I stared through the window at the spot where Worthing had played his harmonichord while Victoire and I watched, invisible, and let the thought take shape.

Worthing had left, and he hadn't planned to come back to his flat. He'd taken his harmonichord and gone... where? Pulford's house seemed the most likely candidate, but for all I knew he was staying at the Leaky Cauldron and eating Mrs. Longbottom's fish and chips right now.

I could do with some fish and chips, in the name of research, of course. I'd been sitting here hours, twiddling my thumbs, and my stomach was complaining loudly of my continued lack of forethought in handbag-based snacks. I really needed to stock up on portable foods. I Apparated to Diagon Alley and made my way into the pub, sliding into a seat at the familiar bar. If Worthing was here, he wasn't eating in the main dining area.

Mrs. Longbottom wasn't there, only a barmaid, so I had to pay full price for my lunch, but I sat and ate and thought about what to do next.

I had to go to Pulford's and check him out. Worthing was probably there, and maybe Knapper as well. The two of them were both obviously involved in something they didn't want me to be aware of, and since I'd found them through Knapper, it seemed logical that he was involved somehow. Whatever it was, it wasn't my problem, so long as I could bring Knapper in and get my five hundred Galleons. That was the important thing. Eyes on the prize, Rose.

Speaking of prizes, I had another pick-up. I fished around in my shoulder bag and pulled out the file. Eighteen year old Annabelle Cleary, arrested by my favourite MLE Jack Upchurch, and then hadn't showed up for court yesterday. She still lived at home with her mum, who had posted bail for her. Her arrest photo was in the file. She was a bit chubby, and had dingy blonde hair and a rather boring face. She lived over near Victoire, and had no priors.

I finished my lunch, left the barmaid a nice tip, and set off for Victoire's town. I recognized the street Annabelle lived on. I was pretty sure I'd stumbled drunkenly down it a few times before while trying to get home with Victoire. The gutters looked familiar, anyway.

The Cleary house was lovely, like something out of a story book. A little blue cottage with white trim, a stone chimney, and an ancient-looking low stone wall surrounding the property. It was in good repair, too. Well done, Mrs. Cleary.

I knocked on the door, suddenly wishing I was wearing my pink unicorn shirt after all, and a blonde, heavyset woman who could only be Annabelle's mother opened the door a moment later.

She took me in with a long glance, her eyebrows raised at my clothes. “Can I help you, dear?”

“I'm Rose Weasley, I work for Angelo Agnelli. I'm looking for Annabelle Cleary.”

“That's my daughter. She's upstairs. Is something wrong?”

“She missed her court date, and I need to bring her in to reschedule.”

“Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry. I'll get her, just a moment.” Mrs. Cleary bustled off, leaving me on the doorstep.

Annabelle appeared a few moments later, looking sullen, accompanied by her mother, who told me, “Here she is. Bring her back when you're done. Annabelle, you behave.”

“Yes, Mum,” Annabelle muttered.

Mrs. Cleary shut the door behind us, and Annabelle stared at me.

“Are you a bounty hunter?” she asked abruptly.

“Yes.”

“Is there a bounty on me?”

“Yes.” Not much of one. It was almost not worth the trip, but the little bounties add up, and after all, someone's got to do them. Dino sure as hell wouldn't bother with someone like Annabelle Cleary.

Annabelle nodded. “Cool.” She scuffed her toe on the stone steps for a moment, and I was about to ask her if she was ready to go when she suddenly said, “I was too embarrassed.”

“What?” I said distractedly, confused. What the hell was she talking about?

“I was too embarrassed to pay for the Daydream Charms, and then I was too embarrassed to go to court.”

Oh for the love. Too embarrassed to buy a freakin' Daydream Charm? Really? “You were too embarrassed? But you were caught shoplifting four times.”

“I'm not very good at it,” Annabelle said.

“Let's go.” I took her arm and Apparated her Side-Along to the Ministry.

As we walked up to the desk, she asked, “You said your name was Rose Weasley? I heard you talking to my mum.”

“Yes, that's me.” I was getting rather annoyed with Annabelle Cleary. These sorts of pick-ups are always irritating. If they're easy to bring in, it's generally because they're too stupid to make trouble, and unfortunately they're also usually too stupid to be out and about in society either.

“Are you related to the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes man?”

“That's my uncle.”

“Cool. Do you think you could get me a Daydream Charm?”

I handed her over to the officer on duty gratefully, and escaped with my body receipt. I was halfway to the exit when I remembered my boyfriend worked here now. I stopped in my tracks, thinking.

Probably I should go say hello to him. Probably that was what a nice girlfriend would do. I looked down at the body receipt in my hand. I'd see Scorpius tonight. After all, we lived together. If I stopped and said hello to Scorpius, I'd probably have to stop and say hello to my parents as well, and then my entire day would be shot. I still wanted to go take a look at Balthazar Pulford's house, and I needed to cash in Annabelle's bounty. Daylight was wasting.

The Lake District was starting to look so familiar, I almost felt I should be leading a tour group. Over _here_ is the lovely mountain whereupon a romantic poet wrote depressing sonnets, and over _here_ is the house that's not magical at all, I promise...

There was no colourful smoke from Pulford's chimney today. I Disillusioned myself, hoping it would work well enough for a bit of poking around, and crept closer to the house. There was an empty feeling to it, not simply that no one was home, but as if it had been abandoned. I held myself poised and ready to Apparate to safety, and whispered a spell at the house. “ _Homenum revelio_.”

Nothing happened. The house really was empty. I didn't lift the Disillusionment Charm, just in case, and got my first really up-close snoop around Pulford's house. I looked in the windows, my stomach a bit knotted up – what if I'd done the spell wrong? But there was no one there. Pulford's house was rather better furnished than his friend Worthing's, from what I could see, at least in quantity. I couldn't say much for his style. There were armchairs that looked to have seen better days, and a scuffed-up coffee table and decrepit old sofa, sagging in the middle. The windows were in dire need of a Scouring Charm or some of Erica Stainwright's best cleaning potions, and cobwebs hung heavily in the corners of the rooms.

I couldn't see any indication that Pulford was home, or that Worthing had come to stay. I didn't see the harmonichord in there.

I went back to my usual spot and sat down behind the hedge. After two hours, no one had come to the house, and I decided to give it up as a bad job. I'd go cash in Annabelle's receipt and go back to Hugo's. Maybe go return Molly's clothes to her, since they were obviously not working. I'll keep my happy little purple glitter baby hippogriffs, thank you very much.

Lydia laughed when I recounted the Annabelle Cleary pick-up to her as she counted out the meagre bounty. I have to admit, it sounded funnier to me too.

“She sounds a treat,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “Where does Angelo find these people?”

“Scraping the bottom of the barrel for bonds now, aren't we,” I agreed, chuckling. Strictly speaking, scraping the bottom of the barrel was the normal business practice for Angelo's.

She handed me the money bag. “Pilliwickle's gets all the good ones. We get the losers. What the hell are you wearing, by the way?”

I left before Angelo noticed I was there and yelled at me again. I rounded the corner to head toward Diagon Alley and came face to face with Scorpius's father.

He looked me up and down – I was really starting to regret the change in wardrobe – and said coolly, “Miss Weasley.”

“Hi, Mr. Malfoy.” 

“Is this a new look for you?” he asked with a dismissive wave toward my clothes, his lip curling back.

“I was hoping to look intimidating.”

“Keep trying,” Mr. Malfoy said.

“What are you doing in Knockturn Alley?” I demanded, flustered. I know the clothes were a mistake, I don't need Scorpius's dad to point that out to me. Especially when everyone in his family looked so effortlessly intimidating.

“That's hardly any of your concern,” he told me in polite but frosty tones. I think an icicle actually formed on his punctuation.

Lydia's words came back to me suddenly, and before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Do you know a man named Butrus Knapper?”

Mr. Malfoy stared at me for a moment. I couldn't read his face, but there was a distinct nonplussed air to his silence.

“No, I don't believe I do,” he said finally.

Now I was silent for a moment. Then, “Oh.” I'm so articulate.

“Is he a 'client' of yours?”

I could almost hear the quotation marks clanging into place around the word client, like it was something dirty he was picking up with a tissue and two fingers. Pinky in the air. Rich people, I tell you.

“He's a criminal who skipped out on his bond, yes,” I said firmly. “And I'm trying to find him.”

“I'm sorry, but I can't help you.” Mr. Malfoy adjusted the lapels of his robes. “I have business, Miss Weasley. I can't take any more time to talk about trivial matters with you.”

A flare of anger went through me, and I spoke without filtering my words. Less than usual, I mean. “I'm so sorry to have wasted your time. I'm sure you're sorry you wasted mine as well.”

A brief flash of surprise crossed his features, but I pushed past him and stormed off. I could feel his eyes on my back as I reached the end of the alley and Disapparated.

I reappeared inside Hugo's flat and kicked one of his chairs over. I stood still for a moment, breathing heavily and staring unseeing at the painting on the wall.

Why did I put up with that family? They hate me. They think I'm a nobody who's not good enough for their son. Beneath their stupid rich people Death Eater dignity, because my mother is Muggleborn and my surname is Weasley. Why do I do this to myself?

As my breathing evened back out and the world came back into focus, the painting in front of me suddenly slid into sharp relief.

It was one of Scorpius's.

A beautiful, calm seascape was rendered in soft acrylics, the small waves washing over the rocky beach. The unexpected contrast between the rough beach and the serenity of the ocean, so different from how seascapes are usually painted, had appealed greatly to Hugo, and Scorpius, always generous with his creations, had given it to my brother as a housewarming gift when Hugo had moved into this, his first flat all on his own. The painting meant something different to my brother than it did to me, I know it. That was one of my favourite things about art. Its meaning was as individual as those who looked at it, and all those meanings were true.

I looked at it now and saw myself in that rocky beach, and Scorpius in the ocean. That was why I put up with his stupid family. He was my ocean. I love him, so I have to put up with his family. I'm sure mine are no walk in the park for him. Hell, he was filing paperwork at the Ministry for me. I could be nice to his father.

I righted the chair, went into the spare bedroom, and stripped out of Molly's clothes. I pulled on my own familiar clothes, slightly twee though they may be, and hung Molly's carefully up on their hangers, then piled them up on the bed. No point keeping these any longer. I couldn't wear them and be me. Tomorrow Scorpius would be paid, we'd give Mrs. Kochel her money, and I'd have my own clothes back. Forget productive and assertive, I was going back to my natural state of bumbling around until I stumbled on something interesting. It had worked in the past.

Molly didn't look surprised to see me on her doorstep again. She waved me inside with the drink in her hand. I sniffed it as I passed. Firewhisky.

“Got any more of that?” I asked as I deposited the clothes on her bed. I wasn't even going to try to put them back in the closet the way she'd had them.

“Of course.”

My cousin Roxanne was sitting on Molly's couch, drinking firewhisky and yelling at the wireless, where the Appleby Arrows were losing spectacularly to the Kenmare Kestrels.

“Hi Roxy,” I said as Molly poured me a drink.

“Bollocks,” she said, downing the last of her whiskey. “Hit me again, Molly.”

Molly refilled Roxanne's drink and then sat back on the sofa. “Are we dying?”

“Bollocks,” Roxy said again, then took off one of her shoes and threw it at the wireless.

“Who are you supporting?” I asked.

“Appleby, of course. That's Roxy's future husband on that broom, you know.”

Roxanne had a long-standing obsession with the Seeker for the Appleby Arrows, Hilarion Winston-Fisher, whom she had never met. I tried to tell her that marrying a man with that name was a bad idea, but she was sure one day their eyes would meet across a crowded Quidditch pitch and he'd declare his undying love for her. I'm pretty sure thousands of witches across the country had the same fantasy. Posters of Hilarion always sold out quickly. I had to admit, he was a very good-looking bloke.

Molly, who actually had met Hilarion Winston-Fisher once, said he was an utter twit, but Roxy didn't care.

“Maybe they'll come back in the next round,” Molly said sympathetically as the Arrows trudged off the field on the tiny black and white screen.

“Don't be sad, Hilarion, I'll comfort you,” Roxy crooned to the screen.

Molly rolled her eyes. “So Rose, how'd the clothes work out for you?”

“Not good. Thanks for letting me try, though.”

“You wore some of Molly's clothes?” Roxanne asked, diverted. She took a sip of her whiskey, not bothering to hide her chuckle.

“Shut up,” I advised her.

“But Molly doesn't wear pink. Or anything with glitter on it. Or unicorns.”

Maybe my wardrobe was more infamous than I thought. Clearly it was my trademark, and I shouldn't change it. I drank some more whiskey. “I decided I like my pink glittery unicorns, thank you very much.”

Roxy snickered again, and I stretched one leg out to kick her gently. She tried to kick me back and almost spilled her drink on Molly's leather sofa.

“Give me those,” Molly said, snatching our glasses away from us. “Honestly, you're like children.”

Roxy and I collapsed into a heap of giggles, and Molly shook her head at us.


	12. The Banshee of Lupin Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I reappeared far enough away that the flames couldn't get me, and watched the building burn in dismay. I hardly even touched the place, honestly. No one could actually consider this my fault. Any reasonable jury wouldn't convict me.

I don't know why I booze with my cousins. It's always a bad idea. By the time Appleby had finished losing to Kenmare, Roxanne and I were both stinking drunk, and Molly had Flooed Scorpius to come and collect me. I think she let Roxy pass out on her floor. That's what cousins do for each other, at least when they haven't a boyfriend to carry their drunk self home.

I may have thrown up on Scorpius when he'd Apparated us home. I can't be sure. Everything's a little fuzzy past the third quarter of the game.

Scorpius must have left my brother a threatening note, because he didn't try to wake us at five again. I was still unconscious – I mean asleep – when Scorpius left for work, and I slept until well past lunch. There was a Hangover-Curing Potion waiting for me on the kitchen table. Now that's love. Either I hadn't thrown up on him, or he wasn't upset by it. I knew Scorpius had made it, because my brother would leave me to suffer or make one for myself.

After recovering from the dreadful hangover, I spent the afternoon trawling through the files and notes I'd collected on Knapper, his brother, and Hiram Worthing, looking for anything that could tip me off to where they'd gone to ground.

I spread the papers out all over Hugo's coffee table, sitting on the floor in front of it while I re-read everything and hoped for something to jump out at me, some small fact that would give me a clue. I could feel it, somehow, that Knapper was with Pulford, wherever they were. I hadn't been able to find Knapper alone, but I'd found the other two. Maybe I could find them all together.

The brief background on Pulford that Lydia had done for me listed a couple of past residences of his, and an employer from ten years ago. People often went somewhere familiar when they went into hiding. I reckoned this was my best shot at a next step in my investigation. I copied the addresses onto a scrap of parchment.

Worthing's background was even less informative than Pulford's, though I knew Lydia had put more effort into it. Either the man had never done anything interesting in his life until he disappeared, or he'd made sure there was no paper trail. The only thing there was an old printer's press in Kent that I was pretty sure had gone out of business well over ten years ago. I added the address to my list and surveyed it.

At least it was a start.

I heard the door opening, and smiled up at Scorpius as he came inside.

“I know what you did,” he said.

I watched him with trepidation as he kicked off his shoes. That sort of statement covers a lot of ground. I do a lot of things that I try to make sure he doesn't know about, at least not in detail. I knew better than to walk into a trap like that, of course, because I'm the child of Ron and Hermione Weasley. I would wait until he said which thing he knew that I'd done, and then I'd defend it.

“I wish I'd been there,” Scorpius went on, quite cheerfully actually, as he grabbed a butterbeer and popped off the cap. “I've always wanted to yell at my father. I bet it felt bloody marvellous. Well done, Rose.”

Oh, that.

“Oh, that,” I said airily, shuffling the papers into a pile as I moved to sit on the sofa. “Yeah, I ran into him in Knockturn Alley. Where'd you hear about it?”

“My mum owled me to complain. Wonder what he was doing in Knockturn Alley,” Scorpius mused, plopping down next to me. Hugo was working a double shift and wouldn't be home until four in the morning. We had the place all to ourselves, and it was very tempting to do something naughty on my brother's sofa. The idea that my brother had already done something naughty on his own sofa stopped me, though. Ew.

I didn't care to speculate on what his father might have been up to. I didn't really want to hear about what his mum had said about me, either, so I changed the subject. “Dunno. How was work?”

“The usual. Bored me to tears. I got a paper cut. How was your day?”

“I made a list,” I said, brandishing the evidence of my productiveness at him. “Of every location ever associated with Balthazar Pulford and/or Hiram Worthing.”

Scorpius glanced at it. “That's a short list, Rose.”

“They lead very boring lives, it seems.”

“Why are you making a list of everywhere they've ever been?” he asked, though his expression was reserved. I was pretty sure he was questioning the wisdom in asking me this. Men.

“Because I can't find stupid Knapper, that's why,” I informed him. “These two clods know something, and now I can't find any of them. I have a good feeling about this.”

“Bloody marvellous,” Scorpius muttered, taking a long drink of his butterbeer.

I set the list down and gave him a serious look. I'd been waiting all day for this. Hell, I'd been waiting all week for this. “Did you get paid?”

He pulled a moneybag out of his robes with one hand, still drinking his butterbeer. I snatched it away from him and hugged it. “Oh, sweet freedom! I can finally wear a different shirt!”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Let me change out of this monkey suit and we'll go give Mrs. Kochel her blood money.”

*

Mrs. Kochel didn't look surprised to see us when we turned up on her doorstep. Then again, she never looked surprised about anything. She looked annoyed. This was pretty much her permanent state of being, so it didn't come as a shock to me.

“You haff my money?” she demanded, holding out one fat hand.

Scorpius was frozen next to me, as was his endearing habit when confronted with Mrs. Kochel. He was staring at her hose. I took the moneybag from him and counted out Galleons into Mrs. Kochel's hand. Once she was satisfied, she went and hid the money wherever it is she hides the rents – probably in her hose drawer, which no one in their right mind would touch with a ten-foot wand – and then marched down the hall and up the stairs to our flat.

After she'd unsealed the door, I ran my wand down the edge and was relieved to hear the locks clicking open. Scorpius breathed a small sigh. Mrs. Kochel huffed her way back down to her own flat, muttering under her breath about ungrateful, poor excuses for tenants. I'm sure she meant our neighbours.

I spun in a circle in the middle of the room, my arms flung wide. “Oh, it's so good to be home!”

“Do you smell something?” Scorpius asked, sniffing the air.

There was some extremely dead milk sitting on the counter. I'm pretty sure that was my fault, but Scorpius was kind enough not to remark upon this as he cleaned it up. This is why I love him. Well, among other reasons.

I dropped the bag we'd brought from Hugo's on the bed and pulled out my list of Pulford-related locales. It was still pretty early, I could go check a few of these out, but I didn't really want to do it alone. I decided to go see if Victoire was free.

After a quick change of clothes, I went out to the kitchen, where Scorpius was cleaning the spoiled food out of the icebox. I watched him for a minute, feeling very fond of him. Love means never having to ask who left the milk out.

He looked up when he noticed me, a bottle of salad cream in his hand. “Going out?”

“I'm going to check out a few of these places. I'll be back later.” I leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, and he went back to his cleaning as I sailed out the door and Disapparated from the hallway, reappearing in the street in front of my cousin's house.

Whatever was going on in Victoire's house was audible even from the street. I paused at her front gate, trying to identify the sound. I think it was one of her kids, but it might have been a banshee. I didn't bother knocking. Probably no one would hear me.

Louis was sitting at the table with Teddy Lupin and his eldest son, eating dinner. Victoire stood at the stove, ladling beef stew into a bowl. Johnny was on the floor, kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs, his little face bright red. Everyone else seemed to be pretending he wasn't doing anything, except Louis, who was eyeing his nephew in horror.

Victoire stepped over her son, and he grabbed her ankle. She shook him off and kept walking to the table, and Johnny let out a particularly blood-curdling scream.

“Merlin's beard,” Louis said in a low voice.

“La la la,” Victoire said with determined cheer. “I can't hear anything.”

“What's his problem?” I asked Teddy. I didn't bother to lower my voice. You could hardly hear yourself talking for the screaming as it was.

“I can't even remember now,” Teddy said, rubbing his temple. I could hardly blame him. The noise was already getting to me.

“Hello Rose,” Victoire said loudly. “Are you hungry? Would you like some stew? There's plenty.”

“Um, no thanks.” I looked down at Johnny again, wondering how they could eat in this racket.

“Eat the stew, Rose,” Victoire ordered. “Everyone loves to eat stew, don't they Uncle Louis?”

Louis looked startled at being included. “Um, yes. It's very good,” he added gamely.

“Daddy eats stew. Mummy eats stew. Remus and Uncle Louis and Aunt Rose all eat stew,” Victoire went on very loudly, apparently to no one in particular. I reckoned Johnny had refused to eat the precious stew, thus the horrific tantrum. I'm so glad I don't have children.

“He's a monster,” Louis muttered, apparently thinking the same thing I was, and Teddy gave him the evil eye.

“Just ignore him, he'll get tired of it and stop eventually,” the monster's mother advised me, to my disbelief.

Teddy and Louis didn't look too convinced of this either. Johnny had the lung capacity of an opera singer and seemed prepared to go on all night the way he was. I sat down next to Louis, feeling I ought to, though I wanted to get going before it got dark. Something told me Victoire wasn't going anywhere tonight. Maybe she'd Disillusion me so I could go alone without being seen.

Victoire handed me a bowl of stew with a look that said I'd damn well better eat it, and went to get some for herself. “Mmm, it smells so delicious,” she called determinedly.

Johnny screamed even louder. Teddy's eyelid twitched. Louis looked ready to bolt. I took a few bites of the stew and pretended I was on the beach in Majorca. I was getting pretty good at that.

Victoire made sure we all cleaned our plates, occasionally yelling out remarks like, “Delicious!” and “I love to eat stew!” to make her happy, and all the while Johnny kicked and screamed on the floor. Before Johnny came along, I would have laid odds that Victoire would win any battle of wills. Now, I wasn't so sure, and didn't want to stick around to see the carnage.

“Why are you here?” I asked Louis around a bite of stew. He didn't hang out at his sister's house often. It tended to be only when he had nowhere else to go.

He gave me a hangdog look, and Teddy informed me helpfully, “Louis' girlfriend chucked him.”

“Sorry,” I said to my cousin, trying to muster some sympathy. I wondered if he'd paid her bail before she dumped him.

“I loved her,” Louis said morosely.

Teddy rolled his eyes.

When Victoire finally got up to check on the baby, I hurried after her. There was a soundproofing charm on the baby's room to keep her noisy brothers from disturbing her, so when I stepped over the threshold, I was enveloped in blissful silence.

Dora was asleep in her cot, one little fist flung over her head. Victoire gave her a little pat. I waited until she'd come back to the doorway to talk to her, so our voices wouldn't wake the baby.

“Want to check out a few possible leads with me?” I asked hopefully, though I was pretty sure it was a lost cause.

“I can't go out with you tonight,” she said, looking harassed. “Teddy will murder me in my bed if I leave right now.”

“Just Disillusion me and I'll come back and bring you booze when I'm done,” I said, giving her a wheedling smile.

“All right, but it better be good booze,” Victoire warned me.

I promised some kind of relief in a bottle, and escaped the Lupins' house freshly Disillusioned. I would've rather had Victoire along to keep me company – and keep me brave – but being practically invisible was the next best thing.

The first address on the list had been torn down. I checked on the next two and didn't find anything out of the ordinary. By the time I got to the fourth address, I was feeling pretty discouraged and had an itchy feeling that the Disillusionment Charm was starting to wear thin.

The sun had already dropped behind the horizon when I appeared in the overgrown lot in Kent. Long shadows covered the squat old building, making the shrubberies look as if they were teeth of some monster trying to swallow the house back into the land. The printer had indeed closed down, and the property had fallen into disrepair. There were knee-deep weeds everywhere, and the paint on the building was faded and peeling. I walked around the edges of the lot as best I could. No one had been here for a long time, from the looks of things. That ought to make it the perfect hiding place, but if they were hiding here, they'd left no trace.

I stood on tiptoe to try to see in the windows. There was a faint reflection in the glass from my hand when I steadied myself, and I felt a tremor of fear. The charm was starting to wear off. I had to do this fast.

“ _Homenum Revelio_ ,” I whispered, pointing my wand with a small flourish at the dilapidated building.

Something sparked inside. I frowned. That spell wasn't supposed to do that. I could see something blue inside, shining ever brighter. It occurred to me a moment later that I should move, and I Disapparated just as the small blue spark ignited into a huge fireball, the heat bursting through the windows as shimmering flame lapped through the broken glass.

I reappeared far enough away that the flames couldn't get me, and watched the building burn in dismay. I hardly even touched the place, honestly. No one could actually consider this my fault. Any reasonable jury wouldn't convict me.

The ceiling slowly began to cave in, the beams creaking as they fell, and the flames leapt ever higher.

“Oh, holy Kneazles,” I whispered.

I was about to Disapparate and get the hell out of there when I heard the _pop_ of someone appearing. More followed, and in a matter of seconds there were half a dozen MLEs running about the place, putting out the fire. I froze in place, hoping the Disillusionment Charm would hold until they went away or I could get somewhere unobtrusive to Disapparate.

Another _pop_ and a familiar figure appeared. Jack Upchurch took in the scene with a long, low whistle, then glanced around. His eyes homed in on me. Dammit. I was pretty sure he could see me. Not good.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled casually over to me. We stood side-by-side, watching the MLEs trying to put out the fire. The blue flames seemed to be fighting them back. The building was completely engulfed, the fire flaring high up into the night sky. Bits of ash were raining down on everyone, blown by a light breeze.

After a few minutes, Jack said quite calmly, “You're going to wind up in front of the Wizengamot if you keep going this way, Rose Weasley.”

“It wasn't my fault,” I told him.

Jack grinned. “I'll be dining out for a week on this story.”

“Shut up. How'd you get here so fast, anyway?”

“This building's been flagged,” he said, nodding at the smoking remains. “Something for the Aurors, no one knows exactly. Very hush-hush. There was a watch notice put on it, so any magic done on the property would put an alert out, and Magical Law Enforcement could respond instantly. Didn't expect to find you here, though.”

“The Aurors?” I shrieked. “My dad is going to _kill_ me! You can't tell anyone I was here.”

Jack looked uncomfortable. “Rose, I have to-”

“Jack, I'm begging you. Don't tell anyone you saw me here. Please.” I did my best beseeching, damsel-in-distress gaze. Anywhere that had been flagged by the Aurors couldn't be anywhere good, and my dad would flip his cauldron if he heard I'd been here.

“Why _are_ you here, Rose?”

“I'm looking for a skip,” I said sullenly. “I just tried to figure out if anyone was in the building, and suddenly it caught fire. A minute later, the place was crawling with Magical Law Enforcement. It wasn't my fault.”

Jack shook his head. “How does this always happen to you? You really are going to end up before the Wizengamot, you know,” he told me. “Despite your family's reputation.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded, bristling. “Because everyone calls the Weasleys blood traitors?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jack said sharply. “I mean that everyone knows the Weasleys are always the good guys.”

Oh. I smiled at him, and he rolled his eyes at me.

“Are you going to tell on me?”

He heaved a sigh. “No. Get out of here before someone else sees you.”

“You're a peach, Jack.” I gave him a pat on the arm and he shook his head at me.

I spun on the spot, feeling the darkness envelop me. I reappeared in Diagon Alley and made a quick stop before continuing on to Victoire's. If I showed up empty-handed, it would be me who was murdered in my bed.

She seemed quite frazzled when I got there, though she perked up when she saw the bottle in my hand. She snatched it out of my hand, hugged the bottle, then gave me a little hug. “Oh, you wonderful girl. Come sit and have a glass with me.”

I tried to brush the soot and ash from my hair while she poured the wine, and she pretended not to notice what I was doing.

“Did Johnny eat his stew?”

Victoire made a face. “No. He went to bed without supper, and screamed himself to sleep.”

“Sorry.”

“He's just going through a difficult phase,” she said, and I rolled my eyes. 'Difficult' was possibly the understatement of the year when it came to Johnny.

“How did things go with you?” she asked me then, eyeing my hair.

“Not well.” I told her what had happened, and she grew more and more solemn-faced.

“The building was booby-trapped?”

“So it would seem. I didn't do anything to start that fire, it just came out of nowhere.”

Victoire rolled her wineglass in her hand thoughtfully. “Someone didn't want that building being investigated. It obviously wasn't the Aurors or MLEs, because they just set an alarm on it. They wouldn't want it destroyed if they're watching it for some reason. It must have been booby-trapped after they did that, though. That took some really difficult magic to set a trap like that without setting off the Ministry alarm.”

I got a sudden chill. She was right. If it had been booby-trapped before, it would have gone off when the Ministry set their alarm. Whoever readied that fireball spell had done it without tipping off the Ministry. Not good.

“Someone probably knows you were there, Rose.” Victoire looked uneasy. “I'm worried about you. I think you're in over your head on this case. Whatever's going on, it's getting dangerous.”

I was feeling pretty worried right now, too. I tried to cover it up for her benefit. “It'll be fine, Victoire. I'm a trained bond enforcement agent, remember?”

She gave me a look. “Be careful, okay?”

I tried not to worry as I went home and crawled into bed next to Scorpius, but it was a long time before I fell asleep. The tiny blue spark exploding into a huge fire was haunting me.


	13. Very Bad Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though I sometimes had a hard time connecting the Uncle Harry I knew, who gave piggy-back rides when I was a kid and had once eaten a flobberworm to impress his sons, with the Harry Potter who defeated Dark Lords, killed basilisks, and was called The Chosen One, I was aware of my uncle's accomplishments. If I were him, I'd trust my instincts too. But I wore unicorn shirts and couldn't fry eggs. I was no Harry Potter.

I wish I could say I felt better the next morning, but honestly, I was still a little freaked out by that fireball. I've knocked down a few buildings in my day – entirely not my fault, of course – but destruction by fire was a new one for me. I didn't know what kind of spell could do that sort of flame, either, and that kind of scared me.

When I'm scared, really scared anyway, far past the usual level of mortal dread that goes with being an adult without steady income, I like to be around my dad. And so I headed out at the crack of noon the next day to my dad's office.

Dad's office was always comforting to me. He'd had the same one for as long as I could remember, and it was as if part of Dad has sunk into the office so deeply that no one else could possibly ever have it. The room was like an extension of him. It might need an exorcism to get Dad out of that office. It was filled to the brim with his successes, the bad guys he'd caught over the years, the awards he'd won, that it always seemed to me to embody everything heroic about my father. And he usually had food in there, too.

I stopped outside the door with my hand on the knob. I could hear a very familiar female voice, and knowing my parents as I do, I paused to see if she was ranting at him or if they were doing something that might require me modifying my own memory to un-see.

She was ranting. Relieved, I opened the door. Mum was pacing back and forth in front of my dad's desk, her arms waving as she went on about something. Dad, sitting at his desk, looked very glad to have an interruption.

“Rosie!” he said, breaking into Mum's rant. “Have you come to save- er, to visit your old dad? Have a seat.”

I sat down in the green leather chair that he always kept in his office, usually occupied either by Uncle Harry or sometimes by a bad guy, while Mum gave Dad a look that said she knew exactly what he'd been about to say, and he would pay for it later.

“What's going on?” I asked, since it was clear Mum had not finished her tirade. I could always tell when she'd been broken off in midstream. She got a certain murderous look on her face. I wondered if the bondsmen had people picketing her office again.

“Your mum's having some trouble repealing that custodian law,” Dad told me.

“I wouldn't _be_ having any trouble if it weren't for the cursed bondsmen fighting me at every turn,” Mum snapped. “Mrs. Pilliwickle went to the head of the Wizengamot and told her how much trouble there would be if the current custodians were let out of their bonds, and now I have to redo everything so that the current custodians complete their bond agreements. Can you believe it? It's simply unacceptable.”

I'd told her that was what would happen, but she never listened to me.

“I told you this would happen if you pushed it,” Dad said. “You never listen to me, though.”

Mum's eyes flared angrily. “You _told_ me? Ronald Weasley-”

“If they let the current custodians out of their bonds, they're essentially letting the bonded criminals walk free,” Dad said loudly, overriding her. “The bond agreement will be voided if you take the custodian part out of it. They'll all need something rewritten, and if they have nothing to secure the bond – and they haven't, or they wouldn't have agreed to become custodian in the first place – then the bonds offices will forfeit the money to the courts.”

“I know that,” said Mum, though she'd ignored it on at least two occasions that I was aware of. “The bonds offices can afford to absorb the cost on this.”

“But they can't,” I said, feeling rather as if I didn't want to get involved, but damn, the thought of Angelo's reaction to that statement made me shudder. And Mrs. Pilliwickle would probably eat Mum's liver for her tea. “Mum, if there's no security on the bond, the bond offices will lose their insurers. Who would insure someone who handed out unsecured bonds?”

“If the bond offices lose their insurers, they will be forced out of business,” Dad put in. “They won't be able to get an operational license from the Ministry.”

Mum didn't look as if she thought this was an entirely bad thing, but Dad continued, “We need the bondsmen, Hermione. You're going to have to let the current custodians complete their bonds. Maybe you can change what will happen to them if their skips aren't found, so they don't go to jail in place of them. Set up a foundation to secure the bonds for them or something, but you can't just leave the bondsmen out to hang. They'll never let the Wizengamot agree to it.”

“Secure the bonds.” Mum's face had gone thoughtful. “Hmm.”

I started to say something, but Dad gave me a look that said clearly to be quiet. Mum was muttering to herself, which she often did when very deep in thought, but I couldn't make anything out.

After a few minutes, she said rather absently, “I need to go check something,” and left Dad's office as if she couldn't see either of us.

Dad rolled his eyes when the door closed behind her. “She'll figure it out,” he told me. “Your mum is a very smart woman. She's just a little... stubborn, when she thinks she's right.”

No kidding. I glanced over at the door. “Are the bondsmen picketing her office?”

“Yes. Four of them sent people with big placards.” Dad grinned. “One of them says _Stop The Oppression!_ I thought your mum's head would explode when she saw that one. Her, the oppressor.” He chuckled.

That had probably been Highland Magical Bonds. Ivor MacTavish served a lot of low-income clients in rural areas, the population most likely to not own anything worth securing a bond and therefore forcing them to become custodians. He'd also once gotten into a shouting match with my mum after she'd accused him of profiteering off the miseries of others. Calling her an oppressor would be right up his alley. Mrs. Pilliwickle tended to be subtler than that. Angelo wrote Italian curses.

“The Bow Street fellows enchanted their placards to shout their slogans in Cockney accents,” Dad said, clearly enjoying himself. “ _Fair Laws For Fair Folks!_ and _Bondsmen Are People Too!_ I had tea and scones sent round this morning.”

I tried not to laugh. “You shouldn't encourage them. Mum will kill you if she finds out.”

“It's worth it.” Dad sat back in his chair then. “What brings you to my office, Rose? Do you need money?”

Well, it wouldn't hurt... “No, Dad, we're all right. I wanted to check if you'd heard anything new about Knapper.”

“Oh, we got a report back from the Department of Mysteries,” Dad said, his expression sharpening. “Some of what he was selling was very nasty.”

Oh, great. If Knapper turned out to be Venatici, my parents were going to lock me in my room for the rest of my life. Without Scorpius. “Anything really bad?”

Dad shrugged. “Worth about five years in Azkaban. It was nothing nice, but it could have been worse. They still have a few things to check out, though.”

I really wanted to talk to my dad about the booby-trap last night, but I couldn't think of a way to fit it into the very small not-going-mental slot in my dad's brain about that sort of thing. Not all of it, anyway. I couldn't let on that I was there, but maybe I could get him to talk about it if I hinted that I already knew a bit about the fire.

“I heard there was a fire last night? Something with the Aurors?” I said cautiously, trying to keep my voice casual.

“Where'd you hear about that?” he asked, frowning a bit, but before I could answer, he went on, “Your friend Jack Upchurch again, I suppose. The MLEs gossip entirely too much.”

“I heard it was pretty bad,” I volunteered, not confirming his suspicions about Jack and me.

“We have it under control,” Dad said, and I could hear the iron in his voice. It wasn't very often that I heard that – Mum tended to be the one with the brick in her handbag – but I recognized it right away. Dad was about to slam the proverbial door on me without telling me a thing.

Hoping for just a bit more from him, I began, “I was just wondering if-”

“It has nothing to do with your skip, Rose,” Dad interrupted firmly. “It's none of your business. Ministry secrets.”

Dammit. I was really glad he didn't know I'd been there, but it would have been nice to hear what he said about the booby-trap. I was actually a little more scared that he wouldn't talk about it. It must be a big, or very dangerous, case. Not good.

“Have you eaten yet?” Dad asked. “Your mum and I were going to have lunch, but then we started arguing, and obviously she's forgotten all about me now. Want to come with me? My treat.”

If I turned down free food, I'd have to hand in my Weasley card. “Thanks, Dad.”

After filling up on fish and chips, and pocketing ten Galleons my dad gave me for later, I set off for the day. Making the usual rounds seemed to be the thing to do, so I hit Knockturn Alley with my photo of Knapper, and canvassed the locals. I wasn't terribly surprised when once again, no one had any idea who he was or where he'd disappeared to.

I stopped in at Angelo's before I went home in case Lydia had a quick pick-up for me. The office seemed very quiet, and I was pretty sure Angelo wasn't there.

“Hi Rose,” Lydia said cheerfully. She was filing her nails, her feet up on the desk. Angelo _definitely_ wasn't there. Lydia usually at least pretended to work when her uncle was in his office.

I sat down in one of the ratty chairs we keep in the front room for clients and their families. “Anything interesting come in?”

“Sorry,” she said. “Everyone's so hung up on your mum's hearing to change the custodian law that we've hardly written any bonds at all. Dino took the only two skips we had last night.”

To hell with Dino, I say. I was less annoyed with him for taking all the skips than I would have been had Scorpius not just been paid, but I still thought he sucked. Wouldn't even help me with my skip. Jerk. “Crap,” I said.

“Still no luck with Knapper?” Lydia asked, blowing some nail dust off her fingers.

“He could be living in an orphanage in Thailand right now for all I know,” I told her. “The man is gone.”

“Angelo's not going to like that. He's already in a bad mood because of your mum. He said to thank your dad for the scones, though.”

I rolled my eyes. My parents are so weird.

“Have you already had lunch?” Lydia asked. “I was just going to go down to the Leaky Cauldron and see what Mrs. Longbottom is serving today.”

“I ate with my dad,” I said apologetically. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

Lydia put a sign in the window to say she'd be back in an hour and locked up the office. I decided I might as well head home. The day was pretty much shot. No luck with my dad, no luck in Knockturn Alley. At least I'd gotten a free lunch.

It was such a relief to go home to my own flat instead of my brother's that I just sat on the couch looking around for a while at first. The silence was quite lovely, but after a little while my own failure was thrumming in my head, and the blossoming fireball played itself back in slow motion every time I closed my eyes. Where the _hell_ was Knapper?

He wasn't at his brother's house. That much was sure. He wasn't at Worthing's. Wherever Worthing and Pulford had gone, they must have Knapper with them. The only other explanation I had was that Knapper was dead. I didn't bring in the kind of bounties that Dino did, so I didn't have experience with that kind of scenario. I wasn't sure if I'd still get the money if I found Knapper's body. I supposed I should have asked Lydia. It seemed such a cop-out to say he must be dead if I couldn't find him, because really, it wasn't as if I were very good at this and could reasonably say that anyone I couldn't find had to be in a shallow grave somewhere. He could be on the beach in Majorca, actually. The knot in the pit of my stomach told me he wasn't, but I was starting to distrust my instincts.

I tried to keep Uncle Harry's words about that in mind, but I didn't think my instincts could compare to his. Though I sometimes had a hard time connecting the Uncle Harry I knew, who gave piggy-back rides when I was a kid and had once eaten a flobberworm to impress his sons, with the Harry Potter who defeated Dark Lords and killed basilisks, I was aware of my uncle's accomplishments. If I were him, I'd trust my instincts too. But I wore unicorn shirts and couldn't fry eggs. I was no Harry Potter.

These depressing thoughts kept me company for almost half an hour before the door burst open and Victoire walked in with her two sons. Johnny looked as surly as ever, but Remus had sprouted an extra set of arms and turned bright orange. He looked very strange.

“Oh thank God you're home,” Victoire exclaimed when she saw me. “I need you to watch Johnny for me while I take Remus to St. Mungo's. I don't know how he did this to himself, he must have gotten my wand somehow, and Teddy isn't answering when I Floo him at work so I don't even know where he is-”

“You want me to what?” I said in disbelief.

Johnny immediately flung himself onto the floor, stretched out on his back, lifted up his legs, straight-kneed, and dropped them with a resounding _thump_. He slowly repeated it. _Thump. Thump._ Oh dear God. I am never, ever going to have children.

“I can't,” I said to my cousin.

“Please, you've got to,” Victoire begged. “I can't have him in the hospital while I'm trying to help Remus, you've seen what he's like lately.”

“That's why I've no intention of watching him,” I told her. “Why can't you leave him with your mum?”

“Mum and Dad are in France visiting my aunt. Dominique is watching Dora, and she can't handle Dora _and_ Johnny with her baby too. And don't even ask about Gran, she won't have anything to do with Johnny right now. She says her nerves can't take it.”

“What about Louis?” I asked desperately.

Victoire gave me a look. All right, that had been a stupid idea.

“Victoire, I can't-”

“Rose.” She fixed a steely eye on me. “You owe me.”

Oh holy Kneazles. I looked down at Johnny, who was spinning around on the floor now, rotating on his shoulderblades as he pushed himself around in a circle, his feet thumping on the floor with each push.

“It's only for a few hours,” Victoire said, reading my panic. “I'll be back as soon as we're done, I promise. I'll come here first before I pick up the baby.”

“You better. And you better bring booze, too,” I added. I was going to need an entire bottle after this. Of the really strong stuff.

“I will. Thank you. Come on, Remus.” She scooped Remus up into her arms, holding him tight, stepped out into the hallway, and Disapparated with him.

I stared down at Johnny and wondered what Victoire would do if her son was hogtied when she returned. After a few minutes, he paused in his circle and gave me a considering look.

“Don't even think about it,” I warned him, a little weakly.

Johnny called my bluff and let out a loud wail. I clapped my hands over my ears and watched him for a moment as he laid there on the floor and screamed. I really had no idea how to stop him, but Mrs. Kochel was going to evict me again if he didn't shut up, so I grabbed my wand.

“ _Silencio!_ ”

Blessed silence fell. Victoire never does this to her kids. She says it's cheating at parenting, and one has to actually teach one's children how to be functional members of society, and that Silencing them when they're being annoying doesn't teach them a thing. He wasn't my kid, though. I can Silence him if I want, right?

Johnny continued screaming for a moment longer, then it seemed to register to him that he couldn't hear himself, so he sat up and patted his mouth.

“I'll take the charm off if you promise to knock that off,” I offered, and he turned to glare at me. “But if you keep acting like that, I'm going to just let you stay Silenced until your mum gets back.”

I wasn't sure I would really do that to him, but he seemed to believe the threat, and nodded at me. His little mouth moved as he tried to talk, and I took the charm off him.

“Are you going to be good?” I asked suspiciously.

“Yes, Aunt Rose,” he said, sounding rather dejected. Hey, Silencing works.

Johnny and I stared at each other for a few minutes. I had absolutely no idea what one was supposed to do with a little boy his age. Victoire makes this stuff look so easy most of the time. I tried to think of what Hugo had done at this age, but mostly what I remember was him breaking my toys and beheading my dolls, so I didn't think he was a good example.

I was at a total loss about what to do with this kid. I drew upon my Weasley blood. “Are you hungry? Do you want a sandwich or something?”

“Okay,” Johnny said, and followed me into the kitchen.

We poked around in the cupboards, and I sort of wished Scorpius would come home and make us some food, but I managed a cheese sandwich for Johnny and me, and I let him sit on the kitchen counter, his little legs crossed underneath him while he ate.

This put him at about eye level with me, and I watched my cousin's bratty little boy eating and thought about how much he looked like Teddy. Only with red hair. I supposed the Lupin genes weren't entirely overpowered by the Weasley ones. Maybe Victoire would manage to pop out a Metamorphmagus yet.

Johnny was being very quiet while he ate. I started to cheer up, feeling very accomplished that I had managed to stop the tantrum _and_ feed him actual food as well. Maybe I wasn't so bad at this after all. Ha ha. Take that, maternal instincts.

Once he finished his sandwich, we were back to staring at each other.

“Do you have any toys?” Johnny asked hopefully after a few minutes.

“I don't think so.” Nothing I owned really qualified as a toy. I don't think we even had a Quaffle in the house.

“Telly?” Johnny was starting to look at me as if he could not believe how useless I was.

“Erm, no.” We'd never gotten around to getting one. We did have a wireless, though. I doubted that was going to cut it for Johnny Lupin. Did one play punk or heavy metal for a three year old?

“What do you usually do before dinner?” I asked.

Johnny regarded me speculatively. “Mummy lets me go to the playground.”

“What, all by yourself?” Did he think I was born yesterday?

He nodded, his face a picture of innocence. Apparently he did think that. I gave him a look, and he seemed to give up on that line right away.

I followed him as he wandered around the flat for a bit, looking around at all my things. I snatched Scorpius's art supplies away before Johnny could touch them. Scorpius would kill me if Johnny messed with his paints and brushes and whatnot.

Johnny found my old Care of Magical Creatures textbook and spent the next three quarters of an hour looking at pictures of manticores and dragons (I was pretty sure this would get me in trouble with his parents, but hell, it was keeping him quiet) while I listened to the afternoon broadcast on the wireless and thought about how else to find Knapper. I supposed I could go back to his house and dig around some more. Maybe his wife had heard something. Anything was better than sitting here twiddling my thumbs.

Maybe I could bribe Lenny Graves with some powdered dragon claw to help me some more. I would probably get arrested if I tried to buy that stuff, though. Then my mum would kill me, or I'd go to Azkaban. I wasn't sure which was worse.

I realized Johnny was looking up, staring at the wireless, and snapped back to attention. They were talking about Venatici. Another new body had turned up. I'm not the most maternal of people, but it seemed inappropriate for him to listen to talk of serial killers. I pointed my wand at the wireless and it fell silent. Johnny gave me a look and I smiled brightly.

Someone knocked at the door, and I barely held in my exclamation of “Oh thank God!” as I jumped to my feet. Victoire didn't usually knock, but maybe it was Teddy coming to pick up his son. I would take Louis at that moment, so long as someone took this kid off my hands. I could hear him tearing a page out of the book now my back was turned and knew it was the really gory picture of the manticore eating a witch.

I opened the door and my mouth dropped open in shock. Hiram Worthing stood at my doorstep, with Balthazar Pulford standing a pace behind him.

“Hello, Rose,” Worthing said in his kindly voice, and Pulford waved his wand at me.

Everything went black.


	14. Rose's Bad Guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic was sitting heavily in my stomach and heart as I looked around. I was in big, big trouble. Kidnapped, immobilized, and hidden away who knew where. I wanted to hyperventilate, but apparently you can't do that on purpose. I had no idea how I was going to get out of this one.
> 
> And then the panic really hit me. _Johnny_.

It isn't pleasant to wake up with no idea where one is or how one got there. Well, once the fog had cleared, I knew _who_ had gotten me there – the bad guys – but not how. It was pretty unnerving. The last thing I remembered was opening the door and seeing Pulford and Worthing, and suddenly I woke up here, wherever that was.

I tried to do an inventory of myself. I didn't feel any pain, just some stiffness in my arms and legs. I was sitting on a chair with my hands stuck together at the wrist with some kind of Sticking Charm, in a nondescript, nearly empty room with only one small window. No one else was in the room with me, and I couldn't see anything out the window but cloudy grey skies, so we might have been anywhere.

Well, probably not on a beach in Majorca. I bet they have blue skies.

Panic was sitting heavily in my stomach and heart as I looked around. I was in big, big trouble. Kidnapped, immobilized, and hidden away who knew where. I wanted to hyperventilate, but apparently you can't do that on purpose. I had no idea how I was going to get out of this one.

And then the panic really hit me. _Johnny_.

Had they taken him too? Where was he? What if he'd been left alone in my flat? He'd wander off, he was just a little boy, he had absolutely no sense of his own safety – hell, he'd tried to convince me to let him go to the park alone. Victoire and Teddy would murder me in my bed if Johnny went missing. On the other hand, no one would ever make me babysit their kid again.

My jumbled thoughts seemed to disintegrate all around me as I caught sight of a small figure coming into the room with Pulford behind him.

Oh, God. It was worse than I'd thought. The bad guys had Johnny, too. If I didn't piss them off enough to make them kill us both, he was sure to do it.

“Johnny, are you okay?” I blurted out when he got closer to me.

Johnny eyed me, and I got the impression he thought this was all my fault. It probably was, actually.

“Sit down and shut up,” Pulford said. “No talking.”

I tried to send Johnny some _obey the big scary man_ vibes so he wouldn't do something stupid. Fortunately, he just sat down at my feet and glared at Pulford.

Pulford glared back for a second, then turned and left the room, tapping his wand against his leg as he walked. A purple spark fell on the floor, and I had a sudden vision of the gust of purple smoke in Worthing's apartment. My stomach wrenched. I really, really didn't want to die. I've never even actually been to Majorca. It's not fair. Why is my life always crap?

A new figure passed in front of the door and glanced in at me and Johnny with eyes rounded with fear. I recognized him immediately, though I'd only seen his photo. Butrus Knapper.

Oh sure, _now_ I find him.

I could hear voices talking now. I recognized Pulford's, and the other had to be Knapper. I couldn't see either of them, but the conversation was pretty clear. They weren't troubling to keep their voices down. I was pretty sure that was a bad sign.

“He doesn't _look_ like a Malfoy-”

“He's part Weasley. They all just look like Weasleys when they're part Weasley.”

Oh, holy Kneazles. They didn't know who Johnny was. They must have thought he was mine and Scorpius's kid. Couldn't bad guys tell we didn't have kids just by looking at our flat? Poor home maintenance _and_ bad observational skills.

Hang on. They knew Scorpius was a Malfoy? How did they know who I lived with? Had they been looking into me?

I tried to breathe deeply, hoping to calm down. If they had done enough research to know I lived with Scorpius Malfoy, they would've known we didn't have any kids. They must not have done any kind of background check, then. So how had they found out about Scorpius?

It hit me almost instantly. Mrs. Kochel. She'd mentioned someone coming by to see us while we were evicted. I hadn't thought about it since then. It must've been Pulford or Worthing. She'd told them about me and “boyfriend”, as she called Scorpius, and they must've gotten his name from her. Great. As if it wasn't bad enough she'd evicted me, she had to go and talk crap about me too.

“Auntie Rose,” Johnny said, and my head snapped down to him. I'd forgotten he was there for a second. Whatever was keeping me alive here was keeping him alive, too, I was sure of it.

“Johnny,” I whispered urgently. “You can't call me that. Just while we're here, until we get away, I need you to call me Mummy if you have to call me something.”

Johnny looked at me like I was mental. I probably was. But I had a feeling he was safer being my child than my cousin's.

“Promise me,” I added.

He gave me a look. Oh God.

“I'll buy you a pet manticore,” I said wildly.

“Nuh-uh,” Johnny muttered. “Your book says they're not allowed as pets.”

Oh crap, why hadn't Victoire ever told me he could read? He's like a little evil genius. “Okay, I'll buy you a _toy_ manticore.”

Johnny considered this for a moment. I could hear footsteps in the other room, and tried to see around the edge of the door. My heartbeat was accelerating again. I wanted to yell at Johnny until he agreed, but this kid was as stubborn as an ox. He'd probably shriek _Auntie Rose!_ if I tried to force him.

“Okay,” he finally conceded, and I let my breath out in relief. “But you have to buy me two.”

“Okay. Yes. However many you want. Just don't forget, okay? Try not to call me by any name, but if you do, make sure you say Mummy. _Not_ Auntie Rose.”

“O- _kay_ ,” Johnny said, sounding annoyed.

I sat back in the chair to breathe for a minute.

“Auntie Rose,” Johnny began.

I wanted to kick him, and restrained myself with some effort. My temper was getting _really_ frayed. If he noticed, he chose to ignore it. I'm sure he's quite accustomed to adults looking as if they want to kick him.

“Can we go home now?”

And now I felt bad. He was only a little boy. He had to be scared.

“Hopefully soon, Johnny. Hopefully soon.”

He was quiet after that, and I listened to the sounds of Pulford and Knapper moving about for a little while. I wondered what they were doing out there, and if there was any possibility that Victoire would magically know where her child was and come find us. It seemed unlikely. She was probably plotting my death. Everyone else was. Plotting my death was the new black, I supposed.

The door slammed, and I jumped in my chair. Johnny started crawling forward to the doorway.

“Johnny, get back here!” I whispered frantically.

“There's a new man. The one from at your house.”

I felt my insides turn over. Worthing. “Johnny, quick, get back here!”

He scooted backward until he was sitting at my feet again, just as Worthing appeared in the doorway.

“Good evening,” he said pleasantly. Somehow the nice demeanour seemed very sinister now that I knew he was a bad guy.

“Ha,” I said triumphantly. “I knew I was right, you were an important lead.”

He ignored this. “Why isn't the child restrained?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Pulford came up behind him and shrugged. “He's a kid, what's he gonna do?”

“Restrain the child, please.”

Pulford rolled his eyes, but he walked over and grabbed Johnny by the arm. Johnny tried to kick him, and Pulford jumped back, still holding Johnny's arm.

“Johnny, don't,” I said sharply.

“Listen to your mummy, kid,” Pulford said, conjuring a small chair.

Johnny sat down in the chair, looking quite angry, and Pulford cast a binding charm on his hands. For someone who dropped out of Hogwarts after O.W.L.s, he was pretty good at it.

Worthing was studying Johnny's face, and then he turned to me. I had the uneasy feeling that he was looking for similarities between us. Johnny doesn't look at all like Scorpius, of course, but he does look quite a lot like a Weasley. We were obviously related somehow, and I hope Worthing couldn't tell that it was as first cousins once removed rather than mother and son. Thank God for those overpowering Weasley genes. I really hoped they'd never seen Teddy Lupin, or they'd know Johnny wasn't Scorpius's kid.

Knapper had edged inside the room too now, watching me. His gaze flicked to his half-brother, then back to me. I was pretty sure he was just as afraid of Pulford as I was.

Worthing seemed to be in charge, though, and that scared me more.

“We have to get rid of them,” Pulford said then, and I forgot all about Knapper, and being scared of Worthing. “This is stupid.”

“You can't just kill her,” Knapper spoke up, somewhat to my surprise. He still sounded pretty scared, but I quite liked him just then. Anyone who was for not killing me was all right in my book.

“Why the hell not?” Pulford said, rounding on him.

“Don't you know who she _is_?” Worthing demanded.

Pulford shrugged. “Another damn Weasley. She's going to have to be cleaned, she saw too much.”

When he said _cleaned_ , I was hoping he meant memory-wiped, but I had a feeling he had something much more permanent in mind. Come to think of it, the idea of any of these guys wiping my memory also made my blood run cold. There seemed to be no good way for this situation to go.

“That's Ron Weasley's daughter,” Knapper said.

Pulford rounded on me with an expression both enraged and shocked. “Are you joking?”

I knew I ought to say something like, _My father will kill you all_ or _You'll never get away with it_ or even, in my mother's voice, _You just wait til your father comes home, young lady!_ , because that's the sort of thing they say in books and films at times likes these, but somehow nothing came out. Even my nervous babble had frozen in fear.

I tried to duck away, but Pulford grabbed my chin, forcing my face up so he could see me better. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I can see it now. There's some Ron Weasley in that face. And his Mudblood wife, too.” He let go of me abruptly, pushing me back away from him and wiping his hand on his robes, as if touching my half-blood face had given him cooties or something. Freakin' pureblood maniac weirdos.

“I owe your father one,” Pulford said, staring at me.

“What'd he ever do to you?” Great, a bad guy with a grudge against my father. Maybe passing Johnny off as Ron Weasley's grandson wasn't such a good idea. It was working so far, though. 

Pulford only stared at me some more, and then suddenly Worthing clapped his hands together loudly. I jumped at the sound. It was so odd to see him do that. He looked like my mother trying to get everyone's attention in the middle of an argument at the dinner table.

“We don't have time for this now. We have business that can't wait. Miss Weasley, don't do anything stupid. We'll deal with you later.” Worthing turned to Knapper then and eyed him distastefully. “Butrus, do you think you can manage to keep an eye on them while we move the bulky merchandise?”

Knapper nodded jerkily, and Worthing gestured at Pulford to follow them. Once they'd gone, I gave Johnny a look that hopefully he understood to mean he ought to stay quiet, and looked over at Knapper.

He was scared, clearly. He was a pretty minor criminal, just a middle-man my dad had called him, but I knew from his expression that whatever Pulford and Worthing were doing, it was much, much worse than a couple of Dark Objects.

“My wife's pissed off, isn't she,” Knapper said miserably.

“Um.” She was changing the locks, and probably going to Azkaban in his place, but I wanted him on my side, and something told me that telling him he was headed for a divorce wasn't going to be helpful. “She did help me find you. That's got to be a good sign, right?”

“I never meant to leave her behind as custodian, but I didn't have a choice.” His eyes were pleading, so I nodded that I understood.

“What's going on, Butrus?” I asked quietly. “What are they doing?”

He was quiet for a while, and I was starting to think he wasn't going to answer me when he said, “Your dad's an Auror.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“I'm going to go to Azkaban if I go before the Wizengamot,” he said next. This didn't seem to make any sense after the last statement, but I decided to roll with it. Knapper seemed to need to talk.

“It wasn't my fault. I used to just sell small stuff, you know? Old families who wanted to make sure their pasts didn't come to light. They liked me because I was discreet. I got rid of trouble for them.” Knapper sniffed. “I was doing pretty good.”

Old families? I remembered Mr. Malfoy's face when I asked him if he knew Butrus Knapper. The jerk had lied to me. I bet he'd been selling off all their leftovers from the war through Knapper.

Knapper hadn't noticed my annoyance, apparently, because he was still talking. “Then my brother told me he had some stuff for me to sell. He knew I had contacts, and that I kept things quiet. That's when it all started going downhill.”

“What did he want you to sell, Butrus?” I asked gently.

“He's been making stuff. For a while now, but he said he was expanding his business. He had a partner who was much better at the enchantments. He had real quality products now. And he did.”

I was getting a really bad feeling again. Bulky merchandise. Quality products. Multi-colored smoke coming from Pulford's chimney. I wasn't sure what was going on, but it wasn't anything good.

“Hiram was out of touch for a while, when he was married, but he and my brother were friends at school, you know? And then Balthazar said they were working together, and that's why things were going so well, and that if I got in on it, I'd be able to finally leave that damn rowhouse. Maybe Lomatia, too.”

Jeez. He was thinking about leaving his wife, but now he was worried that she was leaving him? Men are such idiots.

Knapper sniffled again, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “And then when I got picked up a few weeks ago, Balthazar panicked. He'd just been caught, too.”

“Your brother was caught by the MLEs too?” I said, unable to keep quiet. “What happened?”

“I dunno, something went bad, but he got away from them. They didn't even get a good picture of his face, so he said it didn't matter, but Hiram was pissed. Then when I got out on bail, he made me go into hiding. He said they'd find him if I kept selling, they'd look into me and find Balthazar.”

I wish. Apparently I was the only one who'd managed that. Well, technically I suppose Lydia was the only one, since I hadn't done any of the research. Just the bumbling into trouble. Wait, what did he say?

“Hang on,” I said slowly. A good picture? Oh my God. I could feel my stomach dropping into my shoes. They didn't get a good picture of him. “Is... Is your brother _Venatici_? The serial killer?”

“Not really,” Knapper said, looking rather uncomfortable. “They're sort of... _both_ Venatici. Hiram and Balthazar. Hiram was using the name first, he was working over in Ireland. He said he liked the alias. Balthazar used it too, when he was tracking Muggles. And they're working together, so...”

“He's a _serial killer_!”

“They were only Muggles,” Knapper told me. “He never killed a witch or wizard.”

“Do you honestly believe that?” I said in disbelief. _Only Muggles?_ I could imagine my grandfather's face if he heard that, and shuddered a bit. I didn't believe for a moment that they hadn't killed magical folk. If someone's willing to kill Muggles, they're willing to kill witches and wizards, too.

“I just want them to let me go,” Knapper said dejectedly. “I'm stuck in here. And sometimes Hiram looks at me like he wants to kill me, too.”

“He probably does,” I said peevishly. Worthing had seemed so _nice_ , and he was working with Pulford to murder and dismember Muggles, enchanting their remains. It was horrible. He had a smile like my uncle Charlie's, and he'd used it to kill innocent people. I wanted to throw up.

I looked over at Johnny. He was watching us with wide eyes. I didn't know how much he'd understood – probably more than was good for a little boy his age to hear – but he didn't look scared. Mostly he looked tired.

“Can you let Johnny out, so he can sleep? He's so little, they need lots of sleep.” I tried to adopt the tone of voice that Victoire often used, and hoped I sounded authoritative. Like a mother would.

Knapper glanced over his shoulder, then shook his head. “I don't think that's a good idea. Worthing will kill me if something happens.”

“Not if you leave with us,” I said softly. It couldn't hurt to ask, surely? He didn't want to be there any more than I did. Maybe having an ally would make him brave enough to try to leave.

His eyes went round again. “What?”

“Help us get out of here,” I begged. “They're going to kill us. Johnny's only three years old, Butrus.”

“I can't.” He shook his head, almost frantically. “I can't, they'll catch us, and then they'll kill me. You can't Apparate out of here.”

“We could get outside, past the wards. Then we can Apparate.”

“There won't be time before they catch us, there are alarms-”

“I Apparate _really fast_ , Butrus.”

He stared at me, and I could see the longing in his eyes. I was sure I had him, but then he turned away, his back to us, and I heard him whisper, “I can't.”

My heart sank. Johnny sighed next to me, and I looked over at him. He'd fallen asleep sitting up in his chair, his little chin lolling against his chest. I was sure I'd have a neckache if I slept like that, but small children seem almost boneless sometimes when they sleep.

I watched him sleep, hoping for a way out of this. Something to get us out of there. They hadn't killed us yet. I didn't know why, but maybe there was hope in that.


	15. Hindsight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Madame, this child is a menace,” Worthing informed me.
> 
> “He really is,” I agreed, staring up at Johnny in disbelief.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed. It was dark now, and though Johnny had managed sleep, I couldn't. It might have been ten, or it might have been two in the morning, I couldn't be sure. Johnny seemed out for the night, the poor little devil. I couldn't stop thinking about what Teddy Lupin was going to say when he found out. Hell, he probably already knew I'd gotten his son kidnapped by mass murderers. And my mum was going to make me work in Scrivenshaft's with my cousin.

I didn't see much of Worthing or Pulford for a while. Occasionally Knapper walked past the door to my prison cell of a room, avoiding eye contact with me. I was still sort of hoping that he would, in fact, free us, but it did seem unlikely at this point.

Eventually Knapper came in to take me to the bathroom, and I got a better look at the house we were in. The living room was small and dirty, with a single beat-up sofa upholstered in blue velvet. It was singularly ugly, and my tired brain focused on it way too deeply, noticing the rips and stains and missing buttons. _This is what comes of letting men decorate_ , I could hear Victoire's voice in my head.

We passed the kitchen then, and I turned at the sound of voices arguing. They broke off when they saw me.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Pulford demanded, staring at his half-brother with those cold eyes of his.

“Taking her to the bathroom,” Knapper said nervously.

Pulford continued to stare at him as if Knapper were a cockroach that had dared to crawl out across the linoleum in broad daylight. Worthing, however, waved us past.

“Just go. Quickly. And no mistakes, Butrus.”

Knapper shoved me into the tiny loo at the back of the kitchen. There was nothing but an utterly disgusting sink and absolutely unthinkably dirty toilet, but I was dying. I hovered, though. Couldn't bear the thought of touching that toilet seat.

I could hear Worthing and Pulford resume their argument. Either they didn't think I could hear them, or they didn't care. Probably they didn't care. I couldn't see how the ramifications of that could be anything but bad. I had a bad feeling that the last thing I would do in this life was to pee in a filthy toilet. Horrible, really.

“She knows too much. How'd she find the old print shop, eh?” Pulford was saying. “It took the Aurors months to find it. She's been digging around too deep into both our pasts. I told you when you set that trap that we'd have to come to this. It'll be best to clean everything up now.”

“Everything _is_ cleaned up,” Worthing responded, sounding almost unnaturally normal. “The house, the grounds, they're all empty. All we have to do is wipe her and the boy clean and then disappear.”

Oh, holy Kneazles. My heart was racing, but I let Knapper lead me back to the prison room without looking up at Worthing and Pulford as we walked past them.

When we reached the room, Knapper stopped in his tracks, looking down at Johnny.

“Oh bloody hell,” he muttered. “He's gone and wet himself.”

I looked down at Johnny. There was an unmistakeable wet spot on the front of his trousers. Ew. “Well, what do you expect?” I said, improvising. “He's little, and he's asleep.”

“Does he do this every night?” Knapper demanded, his lip still curled back in disgust.

“Er... Not every night...” I had no idea. Did Johnny wet the bed every night? Victoire had never mentioned.

Something changed in Knapper's eyes as he looked up at me, and I got the disconcerting impression that he was reading me far too well. “He's not your kid, is he?” he asked in a low voice.

A thread of terror went through me. “You can't tell them. He's just a little boy, they'll kill him-”

Knapper didn't look surprised, only a little resigned. “Yeah, they will. Whose is he?”

It didn't seem to do any good to lie about it. “My cousin's.”

“What a mess.” Knapper shook his head. “I just wanted a bit of extra gold. What a mess.”

“You're not going to say anything, are you?” I asked, unable to keep the pleading note out of my voice. I didn't want to beg from this sad little man, but it was Johnny's life. He was sort of a horrible child, but he was family. If there was anything worth begging for, it was family.

“Oi, Butrus!”

Knapper's head snapped around. He looked frightened again, and I was terrified he was going to snitch on my fake motherhood. “Yeah?”

“Bring her in here!”

Knapper gave me a wide-eyed look, but he dragged me into the other room at his brother's call.

Pulford and Worthing were standing in the ragged living room, their argument having hit the point where they could no longer let me alone. Worthing gave me that pleasant little smile, and Pulford was doing his cold-blooded stare again. I honestly couldn't say which was more frightening.

Knapper pulled a rickety wooden chair over and pushed me roughly into it. I could feel the warmth of a spell at my back and instinctively tried to move away from it, but it was too late. Knapped had me stuck to the chair.

“All we have to do is wipe her memory,” Worthing said then, but Pulford's face was red with anger.

“Killing her is the best way to be sure.”

“Killing her is the best way to earn a dementor's Kiss,” Worthing responded calmly. “They will find us. Leaving her here with no memories is safer. They won't have a reason to come after us if she's alive. If they find her body, they'll never stop looking for us.”

“Then we don't leave a body!” Pulford snarled. “Weasley owes me! Five years of my life, rotting in Azkaban! Ron Weasley is due some payback for that. If I can't have it out of his flesh, I'll have it out of his family's.”

“She's a Weasley. You never run across just one Weasley. They're like ants, there are scores of them. They will find her body and then they will find you.”

“I don't care about the Weasleys,” Pulford said mulishly.

“Her father is an Auror. Her uncle is Harry bloody Potter. Do you really want them coming after us with blood vengeance on their minds? It's better to cut and run. Wipe her memories of us and leave her here. I'll wipe the place clean of all evidence. Just don't do anything _stupid_.”

Pulford just pulled a face, as if the effort of a Memory Charm was just too much bother for him. “It'd be easier just to kill her.”

I looked back and forth between them. I could honestly say just then that I wasn't entirely sure having my memory wiped by Hiram Worthing was the better option. Sure, I'd be alive, but who knows what he'd do to my mind? The thought of him – either of them, really – messing with my brain made my skin crawl. At least a Killing Curse is fast. And there's no chance of spending the rest of your life in a closed ward at St. Mungo's, not knowing who you are.

God, my life really _is_ in the crapper when I'm weighing the pros and cons of death versus possible permanent brain injury.

“She lives with a Malfoy,” Worthing said coldly. “If you don't care about the Weasleys and Harry Potter, think of the Malfoys. Do you want to go up against that family? You know who they are. Who they were. She was seen only days ago with Draco Malfoy in Knockturn Alley. Ron Weasley might send you to Azkaban, but Draco Malfoy will make you disappear forever. You've heard about the things your brother has sold for him.”

This comment sort of snapped me out of my reverie. Are you kidding? They were nervous because Scorpius's dad used to be a Death Eater? Damn, I was going to have to send Mr. Malfoy a thank-you card. _Dear Mr. Malfoy, thank you ever so much for coming from an evil and scary family so people don't kill me when they meet me..._ Wouldn't that be cheerful. Guess I should send one to Mrs. Kochel as well, for telling them Scorpius's surname when she was badmouthing us as tenants.

Pulford scowled at him and didn't look convinced. “You should have told me about her. All of this would have been prevented if you'd just killed her when she first came to your flat.”

“Hindsight,” said Worthing.

“We should have killed them both at her flat,” Pulford added, giving me a black look.

Teddy Lupin was going to kill me for letting this happen to his kid. Assuming the bad guys didn't kill me first. I really hoped Johnny wouldn't grow up to be a serial killer because of this experience. And, you know, his obsession with manticores.

“Killing children always gets you a worse sentence,” Worthing said absently, as if he were commenting on the weather instead of murdering a three year old. He seemed to be deep in thought.

“What the hell are we going to do, then?” Pulford demanded loudly.

Worthing's control seemed to snap, and for the first time, I could truly see the monster inside him. His face darkened, and he roared back, “Shut up and let me think!”

Pulford looked at me again. “What if we just kill them and turn them into Dark objects? We can profit from this. No one will find out if there aren't any bodies.”

“They're not Muggles. It doesn't work on magic folk,” Worthing snapped.

“So? We can still-”

“So none of this has gone according to plan! It took me by surprise, and now I'm trying to think of how to salvage this before it all goes to hell!” Worthing looked furious now, and his kindly face had turned ugly and hard.

“It wasn't my fault, was it?” Pulford said hotly. “I didn't know the boy would be there. It was supposed to be just her. You should've thought faster.”

“If you could see past your knives and chopping blocks, maybe you could help do the thinking sometimes.”

Oh dear. I've seen this kind of film, when the bad guys fight like this. This was not going to end well. They were going to kill me and Johnny, and then Victoire would never forgive me. And I'd never get the money for finally having found Knapper.

Pulford stepped forward and grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. “Fine, I'll do the thinking.” He pulled out a long knife that I hadn't seen in his hand before, and put it to my throat. I could feel the razor-sharp edge begin to press, and closed my eyes and thought of Majorca.

“NOOOOOO!!!!”

Everyone looked over. Johnny was awake.

After his high-pitched bellow, he immediately launched himself, barrelling toward Pulford.

“What the-” Pulford took a step back, his grip on my hair loosening, but Johnny slammed into him like a tiny comet, hitting him dead-on in the knees. Pulford dropped the knife and buckled, hitting the floor with a crash. He knocked into something behind him and it splintered and fell to the floor rather musically. Worthing's eyes bulged; that must have been his harmonichord.

Johnny was growling loudly and pummelling Pulford's knees for all he was worth, and Pulford was cursing at the top of his lungs in pain, while Knapper stared at them with his mouth hanging open like a fish. I was pretty sure Johnny thought he was a manticore right about now.

“Somebody spank that damn kid!” Pulford howled.

Worthing was shouting at Johnny too, threatening to give him a ding about the ears, but Johnny didn't stop.

“Johnny, run!” I begged, but he didn't seem to hear me.

Pulford kicked at Johnny, still yelling swear words, and finally Worthing drew his wand and aimed it at Johnny, who rose into the air above us all. Silence fell abruptly, except the sound of Johnny's continued manticore noises. He swiped at Worthing with his little fists as he hung in midair.

Pulford rolled over, making a discordant note on the remains of the harmonichord, lying on his side on the floor and clutching his knees.

“Madame, this child is a menace,” Worthing informed me.

“He really is,” I agreed, staring up at Johnny in disbelief. Why the hell hadn't he just run off when he had the chance? He ran off from his mum every time they went shopping.

“Bloody goddamn son of a -” Pulford managed to stumble to his feet, his face blotchy with rage. “I'm going to kill that little brat, and you won't stop me,” he snarled at Worthing.

“I can see that your injuries have overtaken the logic involved in our plan of escape, so I will bow to your wishes in the interests of our continued friendship,” Worthing said.

Pulford seemed to be in too much pain to understand him. “What?”

Worthing sighed. “Kill the brat.”

“No!” I screamed.

They both looked over at me, and behind them I saw the door burst open. I went weak with relief when I saw my father and uncle.

Dad's eyes widened when he saw me with Pulford and Worthing. All he managed to get out was “Bloody hell-” before Pulford snarled “Weasley!” and shot a burst of purple flames at him. Dad ducked under them, and the top half of the front door disintegrated, right where his head had been, leaving a large hole, blackened and withered at the edges of the remaining wood.

Worthing released Johnny abruptly, and his little form fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Worthing threw a curse at Uncle Harry, and suddenly everything in the room seemed to explode in a chaotic burst of colourful spells as Dad and Uncle Harry began to duel my bad guys. I couldn't move, couldn't duck or run away, but I wasn't sure I would have even if I could.

Johnny was lying very still on the hard wooden floor. It had been a short fall, but he was so little.

Suddenly my dad was behind me, and the next moment I could feel a cool sensation tingle over my back, and I could move again. I dropped out of the chair and crawled to Johnny.

“Rose, grab him and run!” Dad yelled, throwing hexes at Pulford. The moment he'd taken to cast a spell to free me instead of to defend himself had cost them, and Uncle Harry was fighting hard to make up for it. Worthing was good, though, and Pulford had a psychotic rage at my father to fuel him. It seemed a pretty even match, which I thought was pretty scary in and of itself.

Worthing was close to the ruined front door. I was never going to make it out. My limbs felt heavy and useless from all the time I'd been bound in the chair, so I huddled over Johnny, holding him as best I could with one arm, and crawled behind the ugly blue sofa, hoping it would block us from any stray spells. I rounded the corner and found myself sitting next to Butrus Knapper.

“I just wanted some extra gold,” he said morosely, his arms wrapped around his knees as he sat on the floor.

I couldn't help it. I punched him in the face. He went over backward, his nose gushing blood.

The lights from the spells continued to flash overhead, and I could hear Pulford screaming profanities at my father. I wanted to look, but Johnny was still unmoving in my arms. I put my ear to his chest and heard his heart beating. The steady sound of it brought me back to my senses. Of course Johnny wasn't dead. It hadn't been a long drop, maybe eight feet at most. I looked him over, but I couldn't see any injuries. Maybe he'd just been knocked cold. Thank God. Victoire and Teddy might just not kill me after all.

Knapper was knocked cold, or doing a good job faking it so I wouldn't punch him again. I decided to ignore him, since I couldn't really do anything about him right now. I didn't have a wand, or I'd have Incarcerated the little weasel.

I could hear a few cracks from outside, and then a rush of more yelling in the room. I sneaked a peek over the back of the couch. The cavalry had arrived – I recognized a few Aurors who worked closely with Dad and Uncle Harry, and some of my friends in Magical Law Enforcement, including Jack Upchurch.

The reinforcements brought the duel to a swift end. Worthing was overpowered and Incarcerated. I looked around and saw Pulford lying on the floor, Uncle Harry bent over him.

“He's dead, Ron,” Uncle Harry called out.

Dad swore in disgust, and one of the other Aurors slapped him on the back in commiseration.

“Not your fault, mate, you were defending yourself.” Uncle Harry had his official, Head Auror face on as he looked at my dad. “He had your daughter, and he's killed dozens of people. No one will blame you.”

Dad looked around then and saw me peering over the back of the couch. I got to my feet with Johnny in my arms, and Dad and Uncle Harry both rushed toward me while the other law enforcement personnel started to poke around the rest of the house.

Uncle Harry took Johnny from me and examined him, giving me a reassuring smile.

“Rosie!” Dad patted me down quickly, as if he were making sure I really wasn't injured, then he hugged me close, swearing under his breath.

I let my body relax in the warm cradle of my father's arms, and suddenly it was all just too much. I burst into tears.

“Shh, sweet girl, Daddy's here,” Dad whispered, patting me on the back.

“Daddy-”

“It's all right now. You're safe.”

I sniffed, the tears still falling freely. “I still get to collect the bounty on Knapper, don't I?”

Dad let out a low chuckle. “That's my girl.”


	16. Mutual Debriefing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn't seem to care that Uncle Harry was still watching us, because he brought my hands to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “I'm glad you didn't get chopped into pieces and turned into Dark objects, Rose.”

An hour later, I was snugly ensconced in an overstuffed armchair in Uncle Harry's office. Uncle Harry had checked Johnny over, quickly repaired a fractured arm, and now Johnny was sound asleep on the leather couch at the back of the office, drooling all over the upholstery.

Dad had gone to get Mum, Victoire, and Teddy, and I was sure one of the three of them would probably kill me. I would have just gone home and gone to bed, but I really wanted to know how they'd found me, and Uncle Harry said I had to give an official statement about what had happened. Apparently confessing all to my uncle and my dad counted as an official statement.

Uncle Harry was sitting in the chair next to me, his glasses sliding down his nose as he read a report. He'd said he would wait for everyone to get there before we went into the whole story. I could feel my stomach rumbling; I had no idea when I'd last eaten.

“Haven't got anything to eat, have you, Uncle Harry?” I asked hopefully.

He looked up. “There's probably some leftovers in the mini-fridge behind my desk. You're welcome to anything you find.”

But before I could get up and raid the fridge, the door burst open and Scorpius rushed in, looking wide-eyed. “You found her?” His eyes zeroed in on me and he rushed over, hauling me up into his arms and kissing me soundly. “God, Rose, I was sure you were going to turn up in a ditch somewhere. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Oof,” I said, because he was squeezing the air out of my lungs. Scorpius loosened his grasp on me and stepped back, noticing Uncle Harry sitting next to me.

“Um, hi Mr. Potter.”

Uncle Harry gave him a mild smile. “Hi Scorpius.”

“Are you all right, Rose?” Scorpius turned back to me, looking me over as if scanning me for injuries.

“I'm fine. Totally alive and with no limbs turned into Hands of Glory, I swear.”

“That's not funny,” Scorpius said, picking up my hands to look at them. He didn't seem to care that Uncle Harry was still watching us, because he brought my hands to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “I'm glad you didn't get chopped into pieces and turned into Dark objects, Rose.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Dad came back in then. He rolled his eyes when he saw Scorpius holding my hands, but he didn't say anything. Mum was right behind him, and she practically shoved Scorpius aside to hug me. There were tears in her eyes, and I had to pretend not to see them. I hate when Mum cries. I like her much better shouting and ranting.

Victoire and Teddy had rushed in behind my parents, and they completely ignored me, instead dashing over to their son. Johnny woke up when his mother snatched him into her arms, and he complained loudly, “I was sleeping! Be quiet!” but Victoire just started kissing his face as if she couldn't hear him. Teddy ran his hands over his son, probably making sure he wasn't missing any limbs either.

“Oh, my baby, my baby,” Victoire was sobbing, hugging him tight.

Johnny tried to wriggle out of her arms. “I'm not a baby, I'm a manticore.”

Teddy took him out of Victoire's arms, and she collapsed on the leather couch, crying. Uncle Harry went over to sit next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.

Teddy came over to me with Johnny in his arms. I was still half-afraid he was going to blame me for the whole thing, but instead he said quietly, “Thanks, Rose,” and went back to his wife. Johnny seemed to find the whole thing very trying. He was still grumbling at his parents, or maybe he was growling. He was a manticore, after all.

My mum continued to hug me, while Scorpius and my dad hovered nearby, and eventually Victoire staggered to her feet and threw herself at me. Mum let go, and Victoire hugged me.

“I thought he was dead, I thought you were both dead,” she said tearfully, wiping at her face as she let me go.

“I told you, I'm a manticore,” Johnny piped up.

“He attacked them,” I told Victoire. “He really does think he's a manticore. He went right at Pulford, hit him right in the kneecaps-”

Teddy winced. He'd been hit in the knees by his son before, as had quite a few other members of the family. Johnny had a notoriously hard head.

“He was pretty amazing,” I finished to Victoire. “And totally mental. Pulford had a very large knife at the time.”

Victoire paled. “Oh my God.”

“Auntie Rose made me call her Mum,” Johnny told his father. “She's not my mum.”

“What?” Teddy said in surprise.

“They thought he was mine,” I explained. “Worthing and Pulford. They thought Johnny was my son, mine and Scorpius's. I didn't think they would let him live if they knew he wasn't my son.”

“I don't know if I can handle hearing any more,” Victoire said, covering her eyes briefly with one hand.

“How did you lot find us, anyway?” I asked, looking around at them.

“I came to get Johnny after I got out of St. Mungo's with Remus.” Victoire's eyes were huge and luminous with tears as she looked at me. “The door was open, but no one was home. I knew you wouldn't have taken Johnny anywhere by yourself-”

That was for damn sure.

“-and I just had a terrible feeling about it,” Victoire finished.

“We checked with Scorpius, and he didn't know where you were, either,” Teddy said. “So we went to your dad. He told us he'd take care of everything.” Teddy gave my father a pleased smile, and Dad chucked him on the arm.

“Teddy, we should take Johnny home,” Victoire said, stroking Johnny's hair. “Dominique is probably ready to lose her mind by now, too. She's got Remus and Dora,” Victoire added in an aside to me.

“Yeah, you're right. Thanks, everyone.” Teddy ushered his wife and son out of the office.

Dad leaned back against Uncle Harry's desk and made himself comfortable. Mum went to sit on the sofa that Johnny had been napping on, and Scorpius sat down next to her. They were all looking at me. I had a feeling this was going to be a long series of explanations, probably followed by a lecture on why I ought to quit my job.

Uncle Harry spoke first. “Victoire came to us with Scorpius when they couldn't find you, and your dad and I checked your flat over and found evidence of Dark magic in the living room.”

“Probably from when Pulford cast that spell on me to knock me out,” I said, and Dad's eye twitched. “That's how they took me and Johnny. I just opened the door – I thought it was Victoire – and there they were, Pulford and Worthing.”

“Well, once we saw that, we reckoned something bad had gone down with the skip you've been looking for,” Dad said. “Scorpius told us everything he could remember about it, which wasn't much-”

“Not my fault,” Scorpius said calmly. “Rose never tells me what she's up to, and when she does, it's often half a lie.”

I ducked my head guiltily. Mum was frowning at me, so I looked back to Dad. He didn't look terribly pleased, either.

“Your dad tore the Ministry apart trying to figure out how to track what happened to you, Rose,” Uncle Harry said quietly. “We finally brought in your MLE friend, Jack Upchurch, and he admitted that he'd seen you on the scene at the incident at the old printer shop in Kent.”

“He said you were looking for your skip, but he didn't know why the Aurors were watching the building, so he didn't make the connection.” Dad rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If he'd just told us at the time that he'd seen you there...”

“I made him promise,” I said, wincing. Dad would have made the connection ages ago if I'd admitted to starting the fire at the printer shop. Whoops. “I didn't want you to yell at me for being there.”

“You're lucky you weren't killed,” Mum piped up. She was still frowning at me. “That building has been under magical surveillance in connection with the Venatici murders for the past two months.”

“Well, I wasn't to know that,” I said defensively. “I tried to ask Dad about that fire in Kent, but he told me it had nothing to do with Knapper.”

Now Dad was frowning at me, too. “Well, I didn't know, did I? Scorpius told us you had looked up addresses related to your skip's half-brother and his friend. When we searched your handbag and found your notes, Scorpius recognized the names.”

Scorpius picked up the narrative then. “I finally have things mostly organized in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. I've been filing nonstop since I started there, so I've seen the names of a lot of petty and not-so-petty criminals in the paperwork. I recognized the names on your notes. When I got the file out, there was a lot more there than anyone had been aware of.”

“They'd just been telling us that people had no priors so no one would find out the state of their paperwork,” Dad growled. “Bloody idiots. So many criminals that have walked on minor charges because we didn't know they'd done it a dozen times before-”

“We got the full picture on Balthazar Pulford after that,” Uncle Harry interrupted. “He had a long history of Muggle abuse, escalating in violence each time, but no one knew because each incident was treated as his first. Each time he was arrested, he was prosecuted as if it was his first offence, because the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts bunch kept swearing there was no record of him. The time he did five years in Azkaban was a pretty bad incident, but he would have done more time if we'd known his history then.

“The Department of Mysteries finally finished their report yesterday. Some of what your man Knapper was carrying at the time of his arrest had come from the same bodies that had already been connected to Venatici. And then we saw the Kent printer on your list, and it was a known Venatici address. We thought at first that Pulford must be Venatici, but when we saw his file, we knew he couldn't be. Your dad arrested Venatici, he knew what he looked like, and it didn't match the photo in the file. But in his file, it said he was bailed out every time he was arrested prior to his incarceration by the same man: Hiram Worthing.”

“Worthing acted as a character witness for him as well,” Mum said. “But no one had a photograph of him.”

“But Pulford's file did have one address you didn't have, Rose,” Dad finished. “So we put out a call to all the MLEs on duty tonight to meet us there, and your uncle and I went straight over. And that's where we found you. We had just gotten there when I heard you scream.”

I was feeling pretty grateful that they'd come when they had. If they'd waited for more backup, I'd probably have been dead when they got there. Good thing Dad had a habit of leaping straight in without looking first, with only Uncle Harry as backup.

“They had just agreed to kill Johnny,” I said. “Worthing didn't want to, but then Johnny broke his harmonichord.”

“Good for Johnny,” said Scorpius, cracking a smile.

Uncle Harry was watching me expectantly. I guessed it was my turn for explanations. I didn't think they were going to like any of it, but I plunged in anyway.

“They were both Venatici,” I told them. “Worthing and Pulford. Worthing is who you arrested, Dad, but he was working with Pulford the whole time. Knapper told me Worthing had been using the name in Ireland, but when he came back to England, he and Pulford started up together. They had set a booby trap on that old printer's shop, that's how they knew I was on to them.” _On to them_ probably wasn't the best choice of words there, but it sounded good.

“Did they hurt you at all, Rose?” Mum asked tightly. She looked very worried.

“No. They were worried about actually killing me. Worthing said it would be too much trouble in the long run, he just wanted to Obliviate me.” I wasn't sure how much detail I should tell them about what had happened. Uncle Harry seemed pretty calm, but Dad was already mumbling curses under his breath, and Mum looked like she might go hunt Worthing down and kill him herself. “He was sure killing me would bring Dad and Uncle Harry down on him, and he didn't want that.”

“Damn right,” said Dad.

“But Pulford was furious with Dad, and he wanted to kill me for revenge. He blames you for the time he did in Azkaban,” I added apologetically to my father. Dad's face flushed with anger. I went on hurriedly, “But Johnny knocked him down before he could do anything. Knapper had gotten distracted when Johnny had an accident in his sleep, so he never renewed the charms on Johnny to restrain him.”

“Well thank God Johnny was there with you, then,” Mum said. “Although your cousin will probably never let you near him again.”

I didn't think that was a bad thing, and from the looks on Uncle Harry's and Dad's faces, neither did they. Johnny had a reputation, after all, ever since that time he'd broken Gran's Weasley clock during a tantrum.

“They were worried about Mr. Malfoy too,” I said then, and Scorpius looked rather startled.

“What, my father?”

“Because he was a Death Eater. And he was selling some scary Dark objects through Knapper. Worthing seemed a little afraid of him because of it.” I gave Scorpius an apologetic glance for ratting out his dad. He didn't look bothered, though.

“He was selling Dark stuff?” Dad looked very interested, but then he said regretfully, “I suppose there's no proof. Malfoy was always good about covering his own arse.”

Uncle Harry agreed with him. “I doubt anything will come of it, but we'll poke around and see if we can find out anything about that. Apparently dating a Malfoy has some unexpected benefits,” he mused. “Scares away serial killers.”

“I had no idea who Worthing and Pulford were when I was checking them out. I was just hoping one or the other of them would lead me to Knapper. If I'd known they were serial killers, I promise I would have told you, Dad,” I added virtuously.

Dad shook his head. “When I think about you following Venatici around for weeks, while the entire Auror department was searching for him...” He shuddered.

“Is there a reward at all for finding Venatici?” I asked hopefully.

Uncle Harry chuckled. “You know, I think there was something for information leading to his capture.”

“Which you withheld,” Mum snapped at me.

“I didn't know he was Venatici,” I said loudly. “I wasn't withholding anything, just trying to find Knapper.”

“Speaking of Knapper,” Uncle Harry said then, and handed me a sheet of paper. “I had the desk sergeant fill this out for you.”

It was a body receipt for Butrus Knapper. I grinned at Uncle Harry. Dad was smiling, too. I was definitely going to get the bounty on Knapper. Mum still looked rather disgruntled. I decided I'd had enough. I was dead on my feet.

“I'm going home,” I announced, standing up. “I'm that exhausted, need some sleep.”

“If there's anything else we need to know, we'll contact you, Rose,” Uncle Harry said in his official voice, but he ruffled my hair.

Mum got to her feet as well and came over to me, enfolding me in a fierce hug. “I love you,” she said into my hair, her voice muffled.

“I love you too, Mum.” I patted her on the back. She was half-strangling me, but I knew she was just relieved I hadn't been hacked to bits by mass murderers. I'm sure all mums feel that way about their daughters.

Scorpius was behind her, obviously waiting to take me home. Dad pried Mum off of me, and she hugged him. He didn't seem to mind.

“I need a drink, Ron,” I heard her mumble against his chest.

I stopped at the door and looked back at them. Uncle Harry peered at me over the rims of his glasses. Mum was still sniffling against Dad's chest, but he looked over at me.

“Thanks for saving my life, Dad, Uncle Harry.”

Dad reddened, but he smiled. Uncle Harry waved to me, and Scorpius and I left.

“So,” I said as we left the Ministry, “Are you mad at me too, for following serial killers around without knowing it?”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Honestly, Rose, I'm just really glad you're alive.”

“Oh yeah? How glad?”

We went home to our flat, and Scorpius set about showing me exactly how happy he was that I was alive.


	17. Chuck Finley?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is impossible to adequately explain to a child that you have to take the ice cream man to jail. At least he wasn't working in a Father Christmas grotto, I suppose. Small favours.

Angelo was happy that I'd finally gotten Knapper. He showed it in a typically Angelo way, by accusing me of gross incompetence for taking so damn long, and trying to skim some of my bounty. Lydia made sure I got the full amount, bless her. Angelo slammed his door on us, grumbling about worthless employees and probably Flooing his bookie a payment. Mum had the referendum to repeal the custodian law before the Wizengamot by the end of the month. She'd set up a foundation to buy out the bond agreements of the current custodians, so the bondsmen weren't out any money, and she, as head of the foundation, could control how the contracts ended. Angelo wasn't out any money on the contracts, so he grudgingly admitted that maybe Mum wasn't trying to bankrupt him after all. This time.

Since Pulford was dead, Worthing was going to be tried alone for all of Venatici's crimes. He really had cleaned up their tracks - so thoroughly that the Aurors couldn't find any evidence to tie him to Venatici. Fortunately, Knapper was willing to testify in exchange for immunity for his involvement in the whole thing. My testimony, telling the Wizengamot that he had saved Johnny Lupin's life by not revealing his true identity to Pulford and Worthing, had helped with that as well. What can I say, I felt bad for the guy, and punching him in the face had put me in a forgiving mood. Knapper still had to serve time on his original charges, so he didn't get off scot-free, but he was out in a few months. Lomatia Knapper had already changed the locks, though, and Butrus Knapper got out of jail in time to sign their divorce papers. Mum was Lomatia's legal counsel.

Dad was in the paper for Venatici's capture. The article interviewed a few of Worthing's neighbours, none of whom could believe he'd been murdering and dismembering people for the past ten years. _"But he's such a nice man,” says neighbour Geraldine Fish in dismay. “So very quiet and polite...”_ They had a really good picture of my dad, looking very heroic and leading the squad of Aurors who escorted Worthing from his cell to stand trial. Between Knapper's evidence of his activities as Venatici and my retelling of his kidnapping of me and Johnny, Worthing was never going to get out of Azkaban.

Johnny seemed undeterred by the entire experience. Victoire had confided that she'd been sure he'd have nightmares from being kidnapped by serial killers, but apparently he was unfazed. If anything, he was even more firmly convinced that he was going to be a manticore when he grew up. After all, he'd been a manticore when he defeated Venatici. Half of Venatici, anyway. His kneecaps, at least. Victoire did _not_ decide that I was never allowed near her children again. Nor did Teddy, though I tried to convince him I was having a bad influence and ought never be asked to babysit or change nappies. Victoire had talked him round first, though – she thought I owed her some free sitting for having gotten her son into that situation, and Teddy reckoned anyone who could be forced to watch his children for free couldn't be _that_ bad an influence. Worse, Johnny decided I needed him to watch out for me, and followed me around like a puppy every time I went to the Lupins'. My own personal manticore protector. I have no luck, honestly.

Scorpius quit his job at the Ministry. I didn't even argue that his job had basically saved my life (aside from what Johnny had saved, that is). I had promised him that he could quit when I caught Knapper, so he tendered his notice as soon as I had the Galleons in hand. He seemed a lot happier, more relaxed. He dyed part of his hair purple in honour of his freedom from Corporate Britain. I bought him new dish gloves to celebrate. He didn't think it was as funny as I thought it was.

I may have gotten saved from the murderous knife of a serial killer by my three year old nephew, but I still felt pretty good about myself for having caught Knapper (well, for a given value of the word “caught”). Large piles of gold often have that effect on my self-esteem. I didn't get a reward for the whole Venatici capture, since I hadn't actually captured him – it had been the other way round – or given the Ministry anything to lead to his capture, but I was kind of okay with that. I never really expect any windfalls. My expectations run pretty low most of the time when gold is involved. Meeting Venatici and living to tell the tale felt like enough luck to me.

*

“Are you going out?” Scorpius asked. He was scrubbing the kitchen sink, his hair pulled back with my pink hair elastic. He was wearing his new dish gloves. They were purple, sprigged with white flowers. Very stylish. They matched his hair.

I patted the small stack of skips Lydia had given me. “Someone's got to pay the bills.”

He quirked an eyebrow at me. “Well, it is your turn.”

“I know. But don't ask me to do any cleaning now you're not working,” I warned him.

“Don't worry. You're rubbish at cleaning, I'd rather do it myself.” 

I brightened. “Good.”

He rolled his eyes and went back to scrubbing, humming quietly.

I grabbed my handbag and left. Clearly he was busy. When I closed the door behind me, I heard a familiar baritone voice raising in song.

_“Wunderbar, wunderbar, there's our favourite star above, what a bright shining star, like our love it's wunderbar...”_

I leaned against the door for a minute and listened to him sing, grinning widely. When he finished that number and started into “Climb Ev'ry Mountain”, I decided I'd better get a move on. I've never really cared for that song. Gran goes into raptures for it, though. I set off down the street and stopped for a coffee, then pulled out the stack of new skips that Lydia had given me and opened the first folder. I read the name and let out a groan.

Pyxis Parmenter.

It was only two in the afternoon, so Parmenter was at work. I hate taking people into custody at work. It's almost always more trouble than it's worth. I prefer to catch them unawares at home. But taking Parmenter down was a huge pain no matter where he was. Unfortunately, Parmenter worked selling ice lollies to little kids out of the back of a cart down Diagon Alley. It is impossible to adequately explain to a child that you have to take the ice cream man to jail because he got drunk and destroyed a liquor store. At least he wasn't working in a Father Christmas grotto, I suppose. Small favours.

I managed to sneak up on him while he was rooting around in the cart for a strawberry ice. He reared back when he saw me, almost tripping over the cart. I tried to look tough to Parmenter but non-threatening to the small crowd of children who were watching. Tricky.

Parmenter didn't look or smell good. If he wasn't drunk now, he'd only just sobered up. Fan-bloody-tastic.

The audience was making me nervous. I got right down to it. “I need to take you in, Parmenter. You missed another court date.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he told me, red eyes rolling madly. “My name is Chuck Finley.”

“Parmenter. Come on. I've taken you into custody a dozen times. I know who you are.”

“No, no, I'm Chuck Finley.”

“You're not fooling anyone, you know.”

Parmenter looked around frantically for an escape. “I d-don't know what you're t-talking about-”

This was just embarrassing. The kids were all staring at us, quite impassively, eating their ices, their eyes bobbing between me and Parmenter.

I grabbed his arm; he twisted away. He was sweaty, and it was hard to get a good grip. He managed to get his wand out and waved it somewhat frantically.

A cloud of ice lollies flew up out of the cart and began shooting at me. I ducked and dodged, and they splattered all over the wall behind me. One of them hit me in the leg. It kind of stung, I have to admit. Parmenter took advantage of my distraction while I rubbed my leg and sent a new barrage. This time several of them hit me, mostly in the hair. I could feel chunks of frozen berries running down my back. Gross.

I shot a couple of spells at Parmenter. He ducked behind the cart, and I tried to aim around it. The kids were still watching us and calmly eating their lollies and ices. Parmenter tried to hex me, and I managed to get him with an Incarcerous.

Trudging over to where he lay on the ground, squirming against the ropes, I tried to shake the remains of the lollies out of my hair. Really, I should get hazard pay for picking up Parmenter. Or send my laundry and shampoo bill to Angelo.

“Fair play to the girl,” one of the kids said judiciously, nodding. The little crowd dispersed, and I hauled Parmenter to his feet.

“Chuck Finley!” he squeaked.

“Sorry, Parmenter,” I said, and Apparated us both to the Ministry.

THE END

 

**A/N: A quick disclaimer: Chuck Finley is from “Burn Notice”. It's Sam's favorite alias :) And the songs mentioned: “Wunderbar” is from the Cole Porter musical “Kiss Me Kate”, and “Climb Ev'ry Mountain” is from Rodgers & Hammerstein's “The Sound of Music”.**


End file.
